Serpent's Tears
by Julis Caesar
Summary: Sarah receives her Hogwarts letter, just like everybody else. Unlike everyone else, she's Muggle-born... And in Slytherin. She is absolutely determined to arrange the world around her ideals- and if Voldemort gets in the way, well, too bad for him. WIP, no ships, OC-who-I-am-trying-to-keep-from-being-a-mary-sue, etc. ON INDEFINITE HIATUS.
1. A Letter, a Visitor, and an Alley

**Allow me to start by painfully disabusing some of you of your more inaccurate impressions of this story. _Serpent's_ _Tears_ is not Snape/OC. Sorry. Not happening. The reason Snape is listed as one of two main characters is because other than Sarah Levine, my OC, he is the most important person in this fic. If you doubt me (although I can't imagine why), look at the rating. Now look at it again. Yep. T. This one will remain T for a while, although by the time I get into, say, _seventh year_, I'll probably be up to M and need to rewrite this again.**

**While we're on that topic, Sarah is an OC in the same class as Harry. She is a normal child. Let me repeat this. _Sarah is a normal child._ She has a normal childhood, a normal stay at Hogwarts, a normal (actually, slightly higher than normal) amount of interaction with Harry Potter and the Bad Things That Happen Every Year. No, thus far, there is not a lot of plot. Considering that I have (as of the writing of this note) gotten precisely _one_ reader upset about the lack of action, and many, many more who think this is a nice change of pace, I'm not going to speed things up. They'll speed up on their own.**

**This is the first fic in a trilogy. It will cover Sarah's first seven years at Hogwarts, and will be succeeded by _Viper's Kiss_, which will begin at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts and cover a further seven or so years, and _Cobra's Heart_, which starts at the Epilogue and takes off. In the second two-thirds, I gleefully violate the "Sarah is normal and will have a normal life" rule that is so inherent in this one. Sarah _is _a strong and determined witch, and this _will_ play a part in all three segments, but strong and determined doesn't mean you change the world at eleven. Having a crazy f-ed up life means you change the world at eleven. Get it? Harry had a shit load of bad luck when he was young and never, no matter how much he wished, had a normal life. What I am trying to do with Sarah is show how you can take a normal girl and end up with a heroine.**

**Okay. Author's rant over. Moving on…**

**First chapter of first fanfic, so please point out rampant errors and other things I should fix. The writing gets better as it goes on; maybe someday I'll take the time to rewrite the first couple chapters, but for now, they stand as is.**

**There is no posting schedule; I had one for about two months and then my teachers were evil and gave me oodles of homework. I'm starting college this year, so craziness is expected. I will not post more often than once a week, but other than that…**

**Thank you to MyNameIsErnest for betaing this. Some of it was fairly awful (and there were some really bizarre typos) before you fixed it, so thank you again.**

**The Obligatory Disclaimer: Not mine! Hogwarts isn't, McGonagall isn't, Diagon Alley isn't, etc. Any references to outside books aren't owned by me either. There is no money being made off of this (as much as I could use it!).**

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><p>I turned eleven on March 15th, but the letter didn't come until the 24th. It must have gotten lost, or something, because when it showed up, it was pretty mauled. There were even two holes in the upper corners.<p>

The mail came just after noon, landing with a thud on the doormat that made Charlie bark.

"Mum, mail's here!"

I didn't get a response and I didn't expect one. Mum was upstairs doing the dishes and wouldn't be able to hear me. There was a long running argument between Mum and Dad about our dysfunctional dishwasher. Dad thought we should junk it and get a new one. Mum believed that "since I am doing all the dishes anyway, why expend more money on something that isn't going to work?"

I grabbed the stack of mail and ran upstairs. Our home was traditionally British. The ground floor had the entryway and Dad's office, the first floor had the kitchen dining room and living room, and the second floor had three bedrooms.

Upstairs, I stood halfway in the kitchen reading off the letters to Mum. "We got," a pause to interpret the return address, "a bill." I dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. "Bill, bill, junk, bill, letter from Miriam."

Miriam was my older sister by twelve years. We'd both been born in the States, but we moved over here when I was five, for Dad's work. Miriam had returned to the States the next year for school. She was notoriously forgetful, and I suspected the letter contained my birthday card. "Bill, junk, junk, newspaper, and…" I frowned.

"What?" She'd stopped doing the dishes and now bent over to pick up the bills. "And hand me the newspaper."

I gave it to her, still staring at the last letter. "It's for me." It certainly was abundantly clear that it wasn't for anyone else. The address read, in neat, slightly archaic handwriting:

Miss S. Levine

1st Bedroom at the Top of the Stairs

79 Duchess Place

Chester

Cheshire

Mum raised an eyebrow at me. "Well? Who's it from?"

"I dunno." It was odd: a letter without a return address. That wasn't all that was odd. The handwriting on the front was in green ink and there was a smudged wax seal on the back holding the flap closed. "There aren't any stamps."

"It'll say on the inside. Open it." Mum had deposited the bills on the counter, the junk in the rubbish bin, and the newspaper open on the table where she was reading it.

I tore the flap just above the seal and dumped the contents into my hand. Unfolding the first sheet of paper, I began reading to myself. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." I looked up. "Mum, it's a letter from a school."

She grunted. "That's nice. But we've already signed up for next year."

'Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class. Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock. Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards). Dear Miss Levine, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' I looked up sharply. "It's a school for magic."

She gave me the _look_, the one that meant I'd better stop messing around or else. "Sarah. What does it really say?"

If she didn't want to believe me… "Read it." I thrust the letter out at her.

She took it, and I watched her face rapidly change from slightly flushed to pale. "It's a joke." Her voice was flat. "What are those other papers?"

I looked at the other sheets. "A supply list and," I paused for a moment. The supply list was the oddest one I'd ever seen. "That's odd. A personal letter." I began reading it aloud.

To Miss Levine,

Congratulations on being accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you come from a non-magic family, a staff member will arrive at your house to help you purchase your school supplies on Saturday, July 25th. I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts.

Sincerely,

Professor McGonagall

There was a moment of tense silence. Mum frowned slightly. "I think you should put this in your desk drawer and forget about it until July. And this will be our little secret, okay?" she added. "No need to go telling Daddy, alright?"

I snorted. Even eleven-year-olds can tell when they're being patronized. But I still folded the papers and put them in the envelope. Stamping upstairs, I threw the letter in my bottom desk drawer, where I… forgot about it.

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><p>School ended for the summer and my life continued as normal. A secluded child, I spent much of my time reading- mostly fantasy. I spent a good two weeks trying to find Narnia in any wardrobe I saw before reading <em>The Magician's Nephew<em> and giving up. By the middle of July, I had completely forgotten about the odd letter.

The 25th of July dawned sunny and clear. We had no plans for the day other than going to synagogue in the evening- we weren't Orthodox Jews, but we followed the _Torah_. I was in Dad's office, trying to decide which books he'd let me get away with reading, when the doorbell rang. Charlie, stubby legs flying, came bounding down the stairs, barking at the top of his lungs. More sedately, Mum followed. She pulled open the door; an action followed by several moments of awkward silence before the man on the other side spoke.

"My name is Professor Snape." His voice was sharp and cold, with just a hint of a sneer lurking in the background. "I am a teacher," his lip curled slightly at that word, "at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Here he paused and looked around the entryway. "I was told you were expecting me." Somehow in three sentences he managed to give the impression that he was immeasurably better than we were.

"Oh," Mum said, very quietly. "You're the one in that letter."

His lip curled again into a full sneer. "Yes." He packed more into one word than most people I'd met could put in four-thousand. I didn't say anything in response, just waited and watched. He was the most complex man I'd ever seen. I suspected that if he put even the slightest amount of effort into it, he could be very charismatic, but he seemed instead to be putting a great deal of effort into being not at all attractive or pleasant. He was either extraordinarily odd or hiding something, and I couldn't figure out which.

By this point, Mum was looking very faint. "I thought it was just a joke," she said by way of explanation.

"Ah." He stood there, a full foot back from the doorway. By all evidence, he neither knew nor cared that Mum hadn't invited him in yet.

She finally picked up on this and waved him in. We made our way up to the living room with her muttering apologies every step of the way. At the top, I threw myself onto the couch, invited Charlie up beside me, and examined the professor as he and Mum sat: her next to me, and he in the chair opposite us.

He was tall and skinny, although not to extremes. Greasy black hair, far longer than I'd seen any man's, fell in clumps framing a pale face. An overly large hooked nose marred what was otherwise a handsome face, with delicate arched eyebrows, black, glittering eyes, and full lips. He was wearing what must be wizard's clothes: something that looked rather like a black overcoat, except lighter and reaching down to the ankles, buttoned up and all but covering a black formal shirt.

"_Is_ this a joke?" I asked, surprised that Mum hadn't gotten there first.

To his credit, he scarcely blinked. "No. And," he added, forestalling further protests, "I can prove it." He pulled a straight, pale brown stick from his sleeve and waved it at Charlie, sleeping by my side. "_Engorgio,_" he said quite clearly.

I watched in amazement as Charlie grew to almost twice his normal size. Reaching my hand out, I paused and asked, "May I?" At Professor Snape's nod, I touched my dog, first gingerly and then more firmly. It wasn't a trick. Magic was real.

Mum, dead pale, looked like an extra vampire for a B horror movie. "It's… real?"

For answer, Professor Snape pointed his stick at Charlie again, and muttered, "_Reducio_." Charlie shrank back to his normal size, seemingly unfazed by the changes. Professor Snape turned to me. "Do you have any other questions?" He made it sound like I had done something wrong.

Ignoring his tone, it only took me a moment to start firing questions. "Can I do that too? What's the stick? Is it necessary? Will I get one? Will it cost money? Is there tuition? When do I come home? Are the other students friendly?" I finally paused long enough for him to answer.

It immediately became clear that I'd done something wrong because what emotion had been on his face vanished and was replaced by a mask. "In order: Yes, my wand, yes, yes, yes, no but you will need supplies, December 15 through January 5 and for the week preceding Easter, some of them." He stared stonily over my head for this whole speech.

As I tried to sort out the answers, Mum began asking questions. "What if we don't celebrate Easter?"

He solved it immediately. "Then I would not mention it to anyone." At Mum's raised eyebrow, he said, "Ours is an insular society. Being different can be-" he paused briefly, "uncomfortable." He looked at Mum. "Is your husband here?"

"Yes." She looked puzzled.

Face stony, he elaborated. "I wish to explain things once."

Satisfied, Mum yelled for Dad. When there was no response, she told me, "He's outside. Go get him."

I ran out and brought him up with a minimum of explanation.

Professor Snape looked at the three of us, all seated side by side on the couch, and proceeded to speak only to my parents. "Your daughter is a witch." Dad raised both eyebrows. "A female magic-user, as I am a wizard." He enlarged Charlie again and left him that way. "Witch and wizard are the generic terms. Muggle is the term for any non-magic user. Muggle-born is used for a witch or wizard whose parents are both Muggles. Half-blood for one parent a Muggle, one not. Pureblood for both parents magical."

I drummed my fingers on my knee. "Will anyone care that I'm a, a-" I stumbled over the unfamiliar word. "Muggle-born?"

He looked directly at me for a moment before staring six inches over my head. "Yes."

"Why?" I hated sounding like a whiny child, but it came out anyway.

His lip curled slightly. "You are not like them. Slytherin house will be the worst about your blood." His voice was so carefully controlled I almost couldn't tell where his sentences ended.

"Slytherin?" More new words.

For all the emotion in his voice, he may as well have been reciting a lesson. A boring lesson. "Hogwarts had four founders and each created a house. Slytherin is one of the four."

Getting information from him was like pulling Charlie away from his dinner bowl: Difficult and fraught with danger. "What are the other three? And why do the kids from Slytherin not like Muggle-borns?" I didn't have so much trouble with the new words this time.

"Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Because Salazar Slytherin wanted the school to only accept purebloods."

Dad raised an eyebrow. "Egotistic lot, aren't you? Are all of the houses named after their founders?"

He almost smiled; I could read it in the twitching of his lips. "Yes. Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin."

"Is there a lot of bullying at this school?" Mum's voice was soft and faltering.

His voice went monotone flat again. "Hogwarts is a boarding school and relationships are a bit-" again the slight pause, "odd. First year students are at the bottom. Hogwarts is a seven year school. In your fifth year, two prefects are selected from each house, a boy and a girl. In your seventh year, a Head Boy and Girl are chosen from among the whole school. Those students are the only ones who have any real authority over you."

I stared at him, refusing to be intimidated by tall, dark and scary. "You didn't answer the question."

He looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time since his arrival. "Gryffindor and Slytherin despise each other, and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff do not get along. Most students only befriend students from their own house."

He still hadn't answered the question, but I let it go. "What else do I need to know?"

A gleam came into his eyes that I would later discover meant trouble. "Nothing." There was a silence that almost became awkward. "There are, however, several things that would be helpful for you to know."

"Like?" Seriously, his refusal to give information was getting on my nerves.

"On your first day you will be sorted into one of the four houses. Each house has a teacher who acts as its head. Minerva McGonagall is current Head of Gryffindor and Transfiguration teacher. The other house heads are Pomona Sprout, Hufflepuff and Herbology, Filius Flitwick, Ravenclaw and Charms, and-" He stopped abruptly, almost as if he was uncertain whether to go on. "I teach Potions and head Slytherin," he finished in a quieter voice.

I drummed my fingers again. "You said Slytherins didn't like Muggleborns." I waited but he didn't respond. "Why did the Headmaster send you then?"

He was definitely avoiding my gaze. "I am not sure." The pause that followed this pronouncement stretched on seemingly indefinitely. "The school year starts on September 1st, and ends June 30th. There is a three-week break around Christmas, and a week break preceding Easter. Students may choose whether they wish to stay at the school for these breaks."

Mum leaned forward on the couch. "Do we have any choice in whether or not she goes?"

It was amazing how expressive his eyebrows were, especially when there was no other emotion on his face. "Many families would consider this an honour, to have a Muggleborn member accepted into Hogwarts. To answer your question, yes you do have a choice. If she does not go, someone from the Ministry will be by to modify your memories and block off her magic." As if reminded of his own magic, he pulled out the wand again and shrank Charlie.

It could have been a threat, but it wasn't; rather, he said it as cold fact.

"I want to go." My voice was surprisingly steady. Mum and Dad shared a glance before nodding.

Professor Snape gave no sign that he'd heard our decision. "There is a street in London where you can purchase your supplies. You will need my assistance."

I deciphered this as meaning that he was going to take us to a place where I could get my school supplies, and so when he stood, I followed.

"Sarah." Only Mum could say my name so you heard the _h_. I looked at her, pleading. Surely they hadn't changed their minds already? Her next sentence put that to rest. "It's Shabbat."

I sat, defeated. Bloody Jewish law and its bloody minutiae. Three thousand years of "tradition" said I couldn't leave the house on Saturdays.

"Ah." Professor Snape remained standing. "Then I shall leave and we should meet in London tomorrow. At 1 o'clock, at the Charing Cross tube station. Above ground, preferably."

Dad nodded. "We haven't been to London for a while." Standing he said, "Thank you for all your help."

They shook hands and Dad showed Professor Snape out.

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><p>Dinner that night was… interesting. We talked about what this could mean for our family. I brought the letter and read it aloud. Mum thought I should go. If I had this talent, she wanted me to learn how to use it. Dad wanted me to stay. He didn't think that I was ready to be away from home for nine months out of the year. It took a while, but Mum won. In the morning the three of us walked to the Chester train station, and bought tickets to Euston station in London. From there we caught the Northern line to Charing Cross. We were early, and Mum popped into a couple stores while we waited.<p>

About 12:45, Professor Snape turned up. He came out of the Tube station, having changed nothing about the day before. I wondered if he had a closet full of identical black robes. "Good." He gave a curt nod. "The street is over this way."

We followed him across the square, down one street, over another and deep into London. The quality of the shopping hadn't gone down much when we stopped in front of a grungy looking tavern sandwiched in-between a retail store and a music store.

"This is it?" I asked, incredulous. He'd dragged us across London for _this_?

Both parents frowned. "_Music Tape_?" Dad asked. "Is this street you're talking about through there?"

Professor Snape shook his head. Turning to me, he asked, very quietly, "You can see it?"

I nodded. "But why can't-"

He cut me off. "There are Charms on it. Muggles cannot see it."

"Then how-"

"Take their hands and lead them in." I noticed that he didn't volunteer.

I grabbed my parents' hands, and, with Professor Snape holding the door open, led them into the tavern.

Dad's jaw hung open. "Well, I'll be-" Mum shot him a glare. "Blessed?" he finished, weakly.

"Through here," Professor Snape said, weaving his way through people.

I couldn't open my eyes any wider. True, the room was low ceilinged, dark, and mostly empty, but my parents couldn't see the door in. And I could. "What's it called?"

The professor didn't turn. "_The Leaky Cauldron._" Heading out the back door, he stopped before a brick wall. I watched in puzzlement as he pulled his wand out and began tapping bricks. "Voila," he said as the wall dissolved. I could touch the sarcasm in his voice.

In front of me was a long street, alleys branching off, filled with people mostly dressed in long robes. Stores of all shapes and sizes lined the street, while the sidewalks were occupied by vendors, all yelling at the top of their lungs.

"Dragon blood! Guaranteed pure! 10 sickles an ounce!"

"Expandable purses! Only as big as you need them!"

"Chudley Cannons versus Puddlemore United! Tickets here!"

I hurried to keep up with Professor Snape as he strode down the street, clearing a path by force of personality. The four of us eventually huddled in the entryway of an old marble building that would not have looked out of place next to Westminster Abbey, out of the way of passer-by.

Professor Snape stared at my parents. "Gringotts Bank is the only wizarding bank in Britain. The goblins that run it are used to dealing with Muggle relatives. I will wait here." His curt tone was almost becoming familiar.

I nodded, and the three of us walked in. Goblins, it turned out, were short humanoids, all about four feet tall, male, wrinkled and almost green, sparse hair, and pointed teeth. One of them smiled at me, displaying far too many of those teeth. "Yes?"

I hadn't a clue what to do now. "I'm going to Hogwarts in the fall," I faltered, "and my parents, well, they're…"

He cut me off. "Muggles?"

Relieved, I nodded.

"Griphook!" he snapped. Another goblin, with a pointier nose, came running up. "A new student vault, and a Muggle currency exchange. Room 7 should be open."

The goblin- Griphook?- nodded. "Follow me." His voice was rough and snarly.

We wandered down corridors that grew less and less ornate. Finally, Griphook ushered us into a small meeting room.

After we sat, Griphook began speaking. "Wizard currency is substantially different from Muggle currency. The smallest unit is a bronze Knut. 23 Knuts to a silver Sickle, 17 Sickles to a gold Galleon. The current exchange rate is £5.241 to 1 Galleon."

Mum jotted notes before looking up again. "How much would you recommend we convert?"

Griphook looked pleased at being asked. "For seven years or just one?"

"Give me the numbers and then we'll talk." I recognized this mode- Mum was a lawyer, although with Dad's raises she didn't have to practice. But she could still switch to lawyer mode on a moment's notice.

I tuned out the rest of the conversation. When they were done, Mum and Griphook leaned forward and shook hands. "So," I asked, standing. "What didja get?"

"We'll put in, every August, the equivalent of a year's tuition at a public school. Low security vault, three per cent interest, 5 Galleon yearly service charge, reduced to 3 if we- meaning you- keep the vault after graduation. And we're withdrawing 40 Galleons now for supplies."

I understood about a third of what she said. "That's nice."

We walked back out to the entrance hall where another goblin brought us a small moneybag and a key.

"You will not be able to access your vault for at least two more days," Griphook told us.

Mum nodded and thanked him. Clutching my money firmly, I re-joined Professor Snape. When we were all gathered again, Professor Snape pointed down the street at a smaller building. "Your most important piece of equipment is your wand."

Mum and Dad remained outside as the professor and I walked in. The wand shop was small and dusty, packed with modified bookcases. Each shelf was filled with what looked like miniature shoeboxes. A stooped old man with wispy white hair, and thick glasses came out from a back room. He spotted us and grinned, displaying unusually neat teeth. "Ah! Severus Snape, 13 and ¾ inches, maple and unicorn hair, a very strong wand, very strong indeed. Quite complex, too. Hard to read."

Standing very straight, Professor Snape said, "Mr Ollivander, this is Sarah Levine. She needs a wand."

"Ah," Ollivander said again. He peered intently at me, pulling a roll of measuring tape from a pocket. "And which is your wand arm?" At my confused look he elaborated. "Your dominant hand, as the Muggles call it. Such strange folk, Muggles."

"My left." I held it out hesitantly. "I'm left handed."

He began by measuring my arm, from shoulder to finger tip. When Mr Ollivander let go, the tape continued measuring me. Fidgeting slightly, Mr Ollivander said, "Each wand is unique, Miss Levine, absolutely unique. Twenty different wand woods, each able to be paired with a different core. I use dragon heartstring, unicorn tail hair, and phoenix feather." He stopped abruptly, and, muttering under his breath, he puttered around, pulling boxes off the tall shelves. Pilling them at my feet, he opened one and handed the wand within it to me. "Nine and a half inches, willow and unicorn hair. Give it a wave."

I waved it, feeling slightly foolish. It gave off a loud _bang_ like a cracker and emitted black smoke.

"No, no. Evidently not," Ollivander said not at all put out.

The next one put the lights out, forcing Professor Snape to restore them with a lazy wave of his wand. The third screamed. The fourth knocked over a shelf. And so it went on.

Ollivander was now discarding wands without letting me touch them, but he finally came up with yet another box. "This should work. Twelve and ¼ inches. Ebony and dragon heartstring." This one produced a burst of gold sparks and the smell of roses. "Very good, very good. A very strong wand, yes, quite powerful. Yet it appears so simple. Almost deceptively so."

Professor Snape's eyebrows flew up. "Very fascinating." His voice was bone dry.

I paid for my wand and we left the store. "He's, um, different." I glanced over at Professor Snape.

"He is odd. Brilliant, but odd." He seemed distracted, but I couldn't tell why.

And then we were off, down Diagon Alley. I was fitted for robes, bought a hat, quills and parchment, and explored the Potions shop. In there, Professor Snape handed me a different, more expensive set of potions ingredients. Over my protests, he explained icily that this one was of a better quality. When he showed up at the register, the terrified attendant knocked off 10% from the price.

The bookstore was equally fascinating. As I wandered around, collecting books, he went and bought some of his own, before going and standing outside. When I joined him, he handed me two books. _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_, and _The Failed Curse: The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord._

"How much do I owe you?" I put the books carefully in my bag.

He looked at me as we re-joined my parents. "Think of it as a gift."

I snorted. I could already tell that the professor wasn't one for presents.

"Fine. A loan, then. And you can pay me back by reading them." He was being sarcastic again. It was starting to annoy me.

Mum glanced at him briefly, before turning to me. "Is there anything else you need?"

"A cat!" I liked Charlie, but cats were better. More solitary, less demanding. Especially if it was magical.

Mum sighed. "We'll ask for one that gets along with dogs."

Half-an-hour later, I walked out of the pet store with a gorgeous Siamese kitten, magically bred for longevity and intelligence. Professor Snape had remained outside with my parents, talking very quietly and very fast.

He turned to me, catching my eyes with his. "Miss Levine." It was the first time he had called me by name. "All Hogwarts houses are equal but different. Gryffindors are brave, Ravenclaws intelligent, Hufflepuffs loyal, and Slytherins cunning. Never let anyone tell you that you are bad simply because you were sorted into one house over another. I will see you at Kings Cross on September 1st." With that he walked away; finding an open spot, he spun on his heel and disappeared with a _crack_.

**A/N: Until next week! Review if you liked it (or even if you didn't; how else am I supposed to know what to fix?)!**


	2. A Train Ride, a Hat, and a House

**A/N: And here's Chapter 2! You should be very proud of me for managing to get this out on a weekend when I have a major project due on Monday. For those of you who care, I did do my research. John Major was indeed PM during most of the '90s. **

**A big thanks to MyNameIsErnest again! Thank you for catching my more truly stupid typos, like **_**bend**_** for **_**bent**_**. That being said, any remaining mistakes are my fault, not my beta's.**

**Also a thank you to my lone reviewer, Noa Alexandra, to my friends and family who sent me emails about how good this is, and to my lurkers. I do have anonymous reviews enabled (at least I should…), so even if you aren't a member, feel free to review anyway! (Hint, hint.)**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm**_**- It's not mine! Harry Potter isn't, and neither is **_**The Hobbit**_**. Although if they were, I would be able to pay for college, which would be nice.**

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><p>Once at home, I let Whisper- my new cat- out of her crate and began looking at my books. The spell books were quickly set aside to deal with later, and I opened <em>The Failed Curse<em>. A note fell out:

Sarah,

A few things I forgot. First: Do not use magic outside of school. The Ministry for Magic prohibits the use of under-age magic. Second: Some are of the opinion that the Dark Lord in this book is not dead. If He is not, you need to be very careful. He and His followers did not like Muggle-borns.

_Severus Snape_

I frowned. "Ministry for Magic?" So somewhere in the government there was a wizard minister? Did John Major know about this? Shaking my head, I settled down to read.

August passed swiftly. I read, learning about the new world I was about to enter. And about Harry Potter. He only appeared in the two books Professor Snape gave me, but he occupied a significant amount of space in those two books. Apparently, some twenty years ago a man called Lord Voldemort began gathering followers to take over wizarding Britain. Over the intervening years- without any evident sign of aging- he kept up a guerrilla war against the wizarding world, inflicting horrendous casualties without much loss. This escalated into all-out warfare by the late seventies. But on Halloween of 1981, he attacked a couple called James and Lily Potter and their year-old son, Harry. James and Lily died. Harry didn't. No one knew why, but the killing curse rebounded on Voldemort and he died. Unless Professor Snape was right, and he didn't die. Harry Potter was apparently the same age as me; he'd be entering Hogwarts with me this year.

I continued reading. My wand remained safely in its box, untouched since the day I bought it. Whisper terrorized Charlie for five days before working out a truce: she would have complete run of the house and he would follow her everywhere. Mum and Dad had a flaming row about me being a witch. I packed for Hogwarts. And unpacked. And re-packed. Et cetera.

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><p>September 1st was overcast in Chester, but by the time we got off the train in London- a safe hour and a half before the train to Hogwarts left- it was sunny. After heaving my trunk and Whisper's crate onto a trolley, the three of us walked into King's Cross Station proper and headed for Platform 9. Professor Snape stood there, leaning up against the wall, looking distinctly out of place in his long black robes.<p>

He nodded in recognition, but made no other sign as we moved towards him.

"Um. I read the books." I wasn't certain how to treat him. He wasn't a friend- not quite, at least- but he hadn't been acting like a teacher.

He gave a sardonic grin. "That's nice." Beckoning my parents over, he motioned down the passageway between platforms 9 and 10. "Platform 9 and ¾ is through this wall. You should say farewells now."

"Why?" I wasn't about to let him ditch my parents this quickly.

One eyebrow shot up. "I suppose that you will be asking too many questions during the school year as well?" It was plainly a rhetorical question. "Muggles cannot pass through."

Goodbyes were awkward with him watching. We hugged and kissed, Mum told me I was coming home as soon as I could, and I turned back to Professor Snape.

"I'm ready."

He nodded. Putting one hand on the trolley, he said, "Briskly walk at the wall. We will pass through onto the platform."

I choked down my apprehension as we started walking. So many things could go wrong. We could get stuck, he could go through but not me, it could be the wrong wall… Nothing went wrong. We came out on the other side directly in front of a steam engine. It was bright red for no apparent reason. There was no one else on the platform.

"Excellent." Snape looked around. Half pulling the trolley, he walked over to the first carriage. He threw open the door, before heaving first Whisper's crate, then my trunk into the train car. "Goodbye." He turned to leave.

I frowned at him. "You aren't…" I hesitated. I wasn't sure what to say.

"Riding on the Hogwarts Express?" he asked sarcastically over one shoulder. "Fortunately, no. I have better things to do than spend eight hours in a confined space with three hundred adolescents."

"Oh."

He turned to face me. Smiling sardonically, he said, "Do not worry. You will see me this evening." With that he spun and disappeared, just like before.

Well, fine. I climbed into the carriage and settled my stuff. Closing the compartment door, I let a very disgruntled Whisper out, and curled up with _The Hobbit_.

Other students began getting on, but most just looked in my compartment before going on to find an empty one. At 11 o'clock, as the whistle was blowing, a dishevelled blond girl came in. "Mind if I sit here? Everything else's full up."

"Nah. Go ahead." I put my book down and called Whisper over from her investigation of the window.

The girl sat down opposite me, grinning. "That's a pretty cat. I'm Hannah Abbot."

"Sarah Levine. And this is Whisper." I smiled politely back.

"'S a nice name. I wish I had a cat. My brother's got a toad, but that's not quite the same, is it?"

Why would anyone want a toad? I let my smile grow real. She seemed friendly enough. "I don't have a brother. Or a toad," I added.

"Lucky!" Hannah shook her head, blond pigtails swinging. "I've got two. Brothers- not toads. Although they do act like toads some days." She grinned. "You want one?"

"No. I don't think my parents 'd be happy."

"Was worth a try." She sighed and pulled out a deck of cards. "Wanna play?"

We were most of the way through our third game of War when the door opened again and a brown-haired girl stuck her head in, a plump boy hovering anxiously beside her. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville here's lost one." She pointed to the boy.

We both shook our heads, Hannah rolling her eyes probably at the reminder of her brother.

She sighed, throwing bushy hair over one shoulder. "Certain? Only, we've looked up and down the train and nobody's seen him. I guess we'll have to head back- Oh! Harry Potter's down there, not two compartments back." She talked very fast and so it took me a minute to catch up with this announcement.

Hannah made a noise more appropriate to a steam kettle. "Is he really? I mean, I've heard loads about him, but I never thought-"

"_I_ wouldn't interrupt him, if I were you," the other girl said prissily. "He's very nice but quite shy. Better leave him alone, I would think." It occurred to me that this girl was a know-it-all.

Hannah opened her mouth, but whatever she had been about to say was abruptly halted by a screech from down the train.

"I'd better go and see what's going on. Bye!" She dashed off down the train, leaving the boy to come in."

"Hi. M' name's Neville Longbottom." He looked mournful as we introduced ourselves. "Trevor's a gift from my great-uncle. He'll throw a fit if I lose him this soon."

We nodded politely; I wasn't particularly interested. Further discussion was prevented by the arrival of yet another person- a plump, wrinkled, old woman pushing a cart piled high with sweets. "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Hannah bought some treats and Neville bought a bunch of things called "Chocolate Frogs", and then it was my turn. Poring over the stacks, I finally bought one of everything.

Neville and Hannah- both evidently pureblood- taught me about Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and other treats. Finally I held up a small package. "What's this?"

Neville grabbed one of his. "Chocolate Frogs. They're charmed to jump, so be careful. You also get a Famous Witch or Wizard card. My dad collected them, but I don't go in for that much."

I opened the package and grabbed the frog. Watching it wriggle around in my fingers, Hannah grinned. "It's not alive."

To spite her, I savagely bit off its head. Licking the last of the chocolate off my fingers, I pulled out the card. "Salazar Slytherin."

Neville raised his eyebrows, looking at me. "You know about the founders, right?"

I nodded, turning the card over. "He's-" I searched for a word. "Not hideous," I finished quietly. He had evidently been painted when he was old, bald and wrinkled; he certainly wasn't handsome, but he wasn't repulsive either.

"Yeah, but looks aren't everything," Neville said sagely. "I mean, Godric Gryffindor's got a broken nose and a scar down one cheek but he's still the best of the four."

I grunted, not wanting to get into this conversation.

Unfortunately, Hannah continued talking. "Both my brothers have been in Ravenclaw." She looked slightly nervous. "I don't think I'm that smart, though." Switching topics, she asked me, "What Houses were your parents in?"

I looked at her oddly. Hadn't she figured this out yet? "Both my parents were Muggles."

"Well, you won't get in Slytherin then. That's good." She seemed far too nonchalant about this.

I challenged her assumptions. "Why is it good that I won't be in Slytherin?"

Hannah blinked. "I mean… well, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in Slytherin."

"And? That doesn't mean all Slytherins are bad." My family history had already taught me this. My maternal grandparents were both German, but while my maternal grandmother was Jewish, my grandfather was a member of the Nazi party and an officer in the German Army. During the war, he had searched the house where she and her family were hiding. Despite finding them, he had refused to turn them in. He later helped them escape to Switzerland; after the war was over he joined my grandmother in New York. I knew that just because some members of a group commit atrocities, it doesn't mean they all will.

Meanwhile, Hannah shook her head. "You still won't want to be in Slytherin."

I dropped the topic. The rest of the trip, while more stilted than before, passed amiably enough. We finished the sweets and changed into our new robes. I was excited when the train began slowing, perched on the edge of my seat, craning for a glimpse of my new school. Leaving our trunks neatly stacked- Whisper unhappily in her crate on top- I clambered out of the train and into a crowd of identically dressed students.

"Firs' years! Firs' years o'er here! Firs' years!" The biggest man I'd ever seen stood at the end of the platform, a lantern swinging at the end of a mammoth arm.

As Hannah and I made our way towards him, she whispered to me, "That's Hagrid. He's the gamekeeper."

In the crush, Neville got separated from us, but I no longer cared. Rounding the bend, I was struck by the view. A lake, black and shimmering in the cold night's air. Across the lake from us, a castle perched on a cliff like a gull about to take flight. It looked like it had been built by a schizophrenic craftsman. The outer curtain was definitely of Norman built, but some of the towers were Renaissance work, and at least one had been built by a Victorian trying to act medieval. I loved it. Differences that would have annoyed me in the Muggle world didn't seem to matter now. Magic was still so new I couldn't be annoyed with it.

The gamekeeper directed us into a fleet of small boats. Hannah and I were joined by two boys, one tall and black, the other medium height and sandy haired. I was mildly surprised when the boats started moving, but incidental magic had ceased to scare me.

The trip across the lake was silent. It seemed to take barely a minute- though I knew we weren't moving nearly that fast- as my brain tried desperately to process all of the new information. It failed. By the time the boats reached an underground rocky beach, I had a pounding headache.

We clambered out of the boats onto the beach, as the giant man walked around. Neville got his toad back, it apparently having stowed away on one of the boats, and we followed the giant man up a flight to stone steps.

Head thumping unmercifully, I hung near the back and so missed the doors opening. The next thing I knew I was automatically moving forward, following the black coated bodies in front of me. I shuffled into a side room and went straight for the back, only dimly noticing the tall woman as I passed her.

She moved to block the door. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony, because, while you are here, your house is like your family here at Hogwarts." Her voice projected easily over the mass of students.

I barely managed to keep myself from snorting. If the plan I had formulated on the train worked, then I would never breathe a word of my real family to my new housemates.

The woman continued. "You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are here at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking with lose house points. At the end of the year the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever houses becomes yours."

So did I.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all freshen yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." She gave a very Snape-like glare at the front row. "I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

Did she really expect us to go wandering off? I shook my head. Occupying myself by counting students, I was distracted by an annoyingly high scream from in front of me. Biting down the urge to kick the screamer, I looked for the cause, and was shocked to see about twenty ghosts streaming through the wall behind me.

One of them, who must have been a monk before he died, said, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

He was interrupted by another ghost, this one wearing a ruff and tights. "My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name, and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?"

I bit my lip to keep from replying.

The Friar beamed at us. "New students? About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

Honestly, did everyone at this school think I was stupid? What else would we be doing here?

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff," the Friar said. "My old house, you know."

I raised both eyebrows. _I_ didn't want to be in Hufflepuff.

Professor McGonagall returned at that moment. "Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." The ghosts floated away through the opposite wall even as McGonagall began speaking again. "Now form a line and follow me."

I wasn't the last person in line, but I was reasonably close to the back, giving me plenty of time to gape. The room we entered was enormous. Four long tables faced me, packed with students. To my left there was a fifth table where the teachers were sitting. I did my best to take it all in, but my pounding head kept distracting me. We walked up to stand in front of the head table. Professor McGonagall then placed a three legged stool in front of us with a battered wizard's hat on it.

I watched the hat carefully. One too many surprising things had happened today for me to accept that it might be just a hat.

It wasn't. The hat opened a rip near the brim and began singing. Tunelessly. And out of key. The song itself wasn't horrid, all about the Founders and the four houses. Evidently we would take turns putting on the hat and it would announce our house.

I waited impatiently as McGonagall worked her way through the first half of the alphabet. When she finally called, "Levine, Sarah!" I almost jumped. Almost.

I stepped forward, heart pounding in time with my headache. I knew what house I wanted to get into, but a magical hat was not what I had expected. Sitting on the stool, I pulled the hat over my head.

"Hello," a voice said. I jumped. "Oh, don't be surprised. It's just me." The voice was unbearably cheery for something only I could hear. "Now… What should we do with you?" It didn't appear to want an answer. "Interesting… Quite intelligent, oh yes very intelligent." There was a long pause. "But ambitious, yes, yes, a drive to learn, to succeed… Yes, and cunning too. You would fit in in Slytherin, but I must say, with those brains you would have many friends in Ravenclaw. Do quite well there, too."

Another pause. I focused my thoughts, pushing everything else aside.

"Oh? Are you quite sure?"

I growled under my breath at the voice in my head. Stupid hat, of course I'm sure.

"Fine," it snapped, as irritated with me as I was with it. "Slytherin!" The word boomed out over the silent hall. I got off the stool and gave the hat back to Professor McGonagall. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Professor Snape's raised eyebrows. Hah! I'd managed to surprise him.

I found a seat in between a bulky girl my own age and a larger boy, as the Sorting Hat continued with "Longbottom, Neville!"

When the Sorting finished, the Headmaster stood. He was tall and thin, with long white hair and beard, a crooked nose, and eyes that I could tell even at this distance were blue. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet," he said, beaming around at all of us. "I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Still smiling broadly, he sat down again. Someone wolf-whistled.

I blinked. That was…odd. Still trying to figure out if he was mad or brilliant, I missed the exact moment when food appeared on the plates.

The boy next to me snorted into his plate of chicken. "Ol' Dumbledore never changes. Still the same trite jokes." Smirking, he turned to me. "I'm Terence Higgs, one of your prefects. The other's Ashley Zeller, over there." He pointed down the table, towards the entrance hall. "And you are?"

He seemed friendly enough. "Sarah Levine." Maybe the rumours about Slytherin were wrong.

Cocking his head slightly, Terence frowned. "Pureblood? I don't recognize the name."

Or maybe not. I offered silent thanks to Professor Snape for preparing me for this. "My family's from the States, so you probably wouldn't know it," I said, avoiding the question.

"That'd be it," he sighed, visibly relaxing. "You though," he told the girl to my right, "you must be a Bulstrode."

She blushed. It wasn't attractive. "Millicent Bulstrode."

Terence spoke to both of us. "I'm sure McGonagall already gave you the lecture about earning points and losing them. Now, we prefects can't officially take points, but Snape usually bears us out, as the other Heads do their prefects. Snape wants us to win the House Cup, but he's not too upset if we come in second or third. He gets super ticked off, though, if we come in last, so try not to lose points." He smiled condescendingly at us.

When all the plates had been cleared, Dumbledore stood again. "Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." He glanced around at the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

I wondered what Quidditch was. Probably some sport like football. I filed the word away for future investigation.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

There was an obnoxious laugh from the Gryffindor table. I wondered briefly why anyone would laugh at what was plainly a serious warning.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

More music. I like music in general, classical particularly, but it has to be in tune. And in time. It quickly became obvious that most of the students had only the barest grasp on musical theory.

Doing my best to tune out the discord, I missed it when Dumbledore dismissed us. Paying attention again, I followed Terence, who was now bellowing, "Slytherins! This way!" Another girl with a prefect's badge- Ashley? - caught my gaze and rolled her eyes.

Hanging back, I walked next to her. "You don't like Terence?"

"Hmn? Oh, Higgs." We tromped down a staircase. "He's nice enough, but pompous when he gets going. Typical Slytherin trait." She smiled down at me. "What's your name? I'm Ashley Zeller."

Following her down a corridor, I told her, "Sarah Levine. My family's from the States. And I thought the Houses were supposed to stick together." The other students were long since out of sight.

She laughed. "Oh, sure if a Gryffindor shows up we're all allies. But there's plenty of squabbling within Slytherin." We reached a dead end. Unfazed, Ashley said, "Salazar."

I watched, astonished yet again, as the wall melted away to reveal a large room decorated in morbid tones of green and silver.

"Welcome to the Slytherin common room," she told me, a clear tone of disparaging sarcasm in her voice. "Girls dormitories are up that staircase- unless you have more questions?" She threw herself onto a black leather chair. Other Slytherins were scattered around the room.

I found a chair next to her. "Why do the Slytherins fight each other?"

"I've found that there are two kinds of Slytherins: leaders and followers. We've all got similarities- arrogance is one, and so is obsession; most Slytherins find a cause and stick to it to the point of insanity- but some are born to lead and others to follow." She shrugged. "So left to our own devices, we fracture into little groups all bent on leading the House." There was a brief pause as I processed this. "That's why Snape pushes Quidditch so hard," she said suddenly. "It unifies us. The whole team's made up of followers, great big grunts like Montague over there. 'Cept for the Seeker. Last year it was Higgs, but he argued so much with Flint he almost got kicked off. Flint'll choose someone else if he can." She gazed dreamily into the fire.

"You don't play?" I asked.

She jolted, surprised. "Me? Naw. Fall off a broom soon as look at it. 'Sides, Flint and me, we don't get along." Grunting slightly, she caught sight of an old battered clock on the mantelpiece. "Looks like bedtime for little first years," she said, not unkindly. "First door on the left. Breakfast starts at seven."

I got up carefully and found my room. Four other girls were already in there, each claiming a bed. The last one, furthest from the door, already had my trunk by it, with Whisper's crate on top.

"Oh, is that _your_ cat?" one of the girls cooed. "He's gorgeous!"

I felt myself blushing at the unexpected compliment. "Yeah, she is. Her name's Whisper. And mine's Sarah Levine." I was getting tired of introducing myself. "From America."

"Millicent Bulstrode. We met at dinner."

I nodded, recognizing her. She was tall and thickly built without being fat. Long braided black hair trailed down her back, and green eyes were nestled in a squashed face.

"Tracey Davies. I've got a brother in Ravenclaw." Tracey was the opposite, skinny with blond hair.

The girl nearest me- black haired and reasonably attractive- spoke next. "Pansy Parkinson"

"And Daphne Greengrass," said the brunette who had admired Whisper. "Tracey, is your brother Roger Davies?"

I tuned them out. They were just gossiping, nothing I needed to know. I feigned interest anyways, to keep from annoying them.

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><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading! Feel free to review! Chapter 3 will either be up next Saturday**


	3. A Week, a Discussion, and a Fall

**A/N: I'm so proud of myself. After supervising rowdy children for four hours, I was able to rouse myself to get on the computer and actually post this thing. Thanks to MyNameIsErnest, for the betaing always, and also to Sarah, who left me a review! I love you Sarah, but I can't reply unless you leave me an email!**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm: **_**Everything recognizable in here is J. K. Rowling's. All the unrecognizable stuff is mine.**

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><p>We went to bed shortly thereafter, but when morning came we were up talking again. I liked Daphne the most. She was quiet and non-confrontational, but when she thought others couldn't hear her she had a sharp tongue. She was clearly a follower, as were Millicent and Tracey. Pansy, however, could be nothing but a leader. This would have led to clashes with me, except I had no interest in getting involved in political struggles this early.<p>

By the time we left the dorm to go to breakfast, I was exactly where I wanted to be- in second. I didn't want to lead, it was too exposed, but now I was in a position to influence everything we did. With breakfast came our schedules, passed out by Snape with a glower that promised future conversations with me.

Before examining my schedule, I first looked over the other first year Slytherins. There was Draco Malfoy, a blond pureblood who delighted in shoving his rank in everyone's faces. He was constantly accompanied by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, two boys most distinguished by their extraordinary similarity to brick walls. The other two boys were Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini, neither of whom I had had much contact with yet.

First-year Slytherins started the week with Defence Against the Dark Arts, something I was looking forward to until I met Professor Quirrell. The most fascinating thing about him was the giant purple turban he wore, something he had evidently gotten this year, although nothing we did could persuade him to tell us how he got it. Any lessons were complicated by his incessant stutter, making it near impossible to understand him. His classroom was filled with the smell of garlic, which almost managed to cover up the smell of him- a musty, dead smell I hadn't found anywhere outside of catacombs.

This was followed by Herbology, which I hoped would go slightly better. As we tromped into Greenhouse 1, I noticed something interesting. While there had only been Slytherins in Defence Against the Dark Arts, here there were ten other students. I made sure as we were sitting down to end up next to one of them, a tall boy.

He smiled at me. "I'm Stephen Cornfoot, from Ravenclaw." He held out his hand for me to shake.

I took it. "Sarah Levine, Slytherin."

He dropped my hand hastily. "Nice to meet you," he said distantly, no longer paying any attention to me.

Surprised, and a little hurt, I kept silent for the rest of the class. Professor Sprout was a good teacher, at least, although biased towards the Ravenclaws.

When we entered Charms Tuesday morning, I saw the first professor I liked- Flitwick, a small wizened old man who used a pile of books to stand on and took roll in a high squeaky voice. That night we had Astronomy with Professor Sinistra, a young witch who ignored all of us equally- I think her only interest was the sky. The next day began with Transfiguration. Whether Professor McGonagall did not like Slytherin, or if she was just crabby in the mornings was still open to debate by the end of the period, but it was the first class in which we lost points. Much to her disappointment- she was probably hoping no one would succeed- I was the only student to successfully turn my matchstick into a needle.

History of Magic came next. Popular rumour said that Professor Binns hadn't noticed that he'd died, but had instead gotten up as a ghost and continued teaching. I couldn't verify this, but he certainly was boring enough for it to be possible. I took copious notes throughout, and wasn't surprised to meet Pansy on the way out.

"I wanna use your notes for the essay." She began walking to our next class.

I followed. "Sure, go ahead." She was lazy and wanted me to do most of the work for her. I knew this, and I didn't care. If Pansy, or any of the other girls began relying on me for work, it gave me a hold on them.

Friday morning started when I got up to finish my History essay. Pansy followed me into the common room.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was annoyingly nasal, I'd noticed.

I found a table and put my scrolls on it. "Writing the essay for Binns."

She frowned- it made her look more like a toad than usual. "Why? We just got it yesterday."

"Because," I said, unrolling my scroll, "I like having free time."

She didn't understand; I, for my part, didn't expect her to. I was already setting myself up as an outsider, a loner. By being just a little odd, just a bit different, people would avoid me enough so they didn't ask intrusive questions, but not to the point that bullying would start. I liked my secrets and so I drove people away in the hope of protecting them.

The essay was almost done when I went down for breakfast. Pansy was already there, safely ensconced in the middle of the other girls. I sat at the edge of her group, in between Daphne and Theodore Nott, another first year. After breakfast, we left for Potions, held in a dungeon not too far from our common room.

Once there, I discovered that we had it with the Gryffindors. Neville and I saw each other at the same time. He crossed the dungeon to stand in front of me. "I saw you were Sorted into Slytherin." He looked embarrassed and was avoiding my eye contact.

I nodded- agreement, nothing more. We could have been friends if I hadn't chosen Slytherin. I almost regretted that decision.

He flushed slightly. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you then." Neville walked away, somewhat stiffly, to rejoin the Gryffindors on the other side of the room.

"You know him, Sarah?" Pansy squealed. "What are you doing with a Longbottom?"

Some days- most days to be honest- I really hated my roommates. "We met on the train. Nothing more." I looked towards the other door- the one we hadn't entered from- as I spoke.

Pansy reddened, sensing mockery, but anything further was forestalled when a new voice spoke.

"As thrilled as I am that you have not started attacking each other yet, I would be almost ecstatic if you could manage to find a seat." The last three words came out clear and distinct, a difference from the rest, which were half whispered in a silky tone.

I almost grinned when I recognized the speaker, but it would have given too much away. I scrambled to find a desk in the front of the room as Professor Snape inserted himself behind the large black wood desk.

He started by taking roll. I think I was the only one who heard the slight hesitation before my name. Everyone, on the other hand, heard the gaping hole before Harry Potter's name, and Snape's comment following it.

"Ah, yes," he breathed. "Harry Potter. Our new- _celebrity."_

I turned to look. Potter, it turned out, was a small skinny boy with a shock of black hair, green eyes, and glasses. The famous scar was mostly covered by the hair, which fell all the way into his eyes.

Roll done, Snape stalked around to the front of his desk. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic."

I couldn't contain my grin any longer. I already believed this class was magic, if only for the way the professor could control twenty rioting students.

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-" He paused, letting the words spin off into the room. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach," he said, spitting the words out like poison- an appropriate simile, I thought wryly.

"Potter!"

I jumped at the sudden yell. Someone squeaked.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

I knew the answer, but Snape's glare forestalled my hand. He seemed to know that I would be able to answer.

"I don't know, sir."

I twisted in my seat to see the action. Potter looked like he was about to throw up.

Snape walked out to stand in front of the boy, sneering. "Tut, tut- fame clearly isn't everything."

One of the other Gryffindors had her hand up now, almost bouncing in her seat.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Draco and his buddies were shaking with laughter. I could guess why. A bezoar was a basic item for anyone who wanted to survive their first poisoning.

"I don't know, sir," Potter said again.

Snape had a nasty look in his eye, one I was glad not to be on the receiving end of. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

I was surprised Potter could keep looking at Snape.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Gryffindor girl stand up.

"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Some people laughed; I didn't. It would be an extremely bad way to catch Snape's attention, since he seemed to be in a particularly poor mood today.

"Sit down," he told the Gryffindor girl. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite." He turned to face more of the class, a new gleam in his eye. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

I bent to grab a quill and parchment, using the opportunity to hide my grin. Idiot Gryffindors.

"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter," Snape said coolly.

I was still smirking slightly as Snape directed us to get into pairs and brew a potion to cure boils. I manipulated myself to be solo, and watched the fun.

I discovered that morning that I _liked_ Potions. You followed the directions and got the right result. Throughout the class, Snape went around with a clipboard, checking our results. He reached my cauldron and glared blackly at me. "You were told to work in partners."

"Tracey Davies is in the hospital wing." I stirred my potion lackadaisically.

He moved over, blocking my cauldron from the view of the rest of the class. "Already?" he sneered.

I added my crushed snake fangs. "She fell down the stairs yesterday. Broke her ankle."

"Ah." He looked in my cauldron. "Good." He began to move on, but looked back abruptly. "Be in here at eight tonight." He swept off.

I continued brewing, but was quickly interrupted. Neville Longbottom had been paired with the sandy haired Gryffindor, and had somehow managed to melt their cauldron, causing boils to explode all over his limbs.

I watched in some amusement- after all, it wasn't _my_ cauldron- as Snape swept down on them. Scowling he swept up the mess with a silent wave of his wand before rounding on the Gryffindors. Neville and his partner were sent to the hospital wing; their bags packed and set by the door. Turning to Potter, Snape hissed, voice cold, "You- Potter- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor!" His voice was harsher, less cultured when talking to Potter or the Gryffindors then when talking to me. I wondered why.

As Potter opened and closed his mouth, I watched Snape. His face wasn't displaying any emotion and his hands were balled down by his side. For a moment I thought he was going to curse Potter. Finally he turned away. "When your potion is complete, you will place it in a vial on my desk." Only now did I notice how relaxed he had been at my parents'. He had shown emotion, made jokes- albeit small ones- and talked to my parents as people. Now I suspected he was completely submerging his emotions to protect himself- which couldn't be good.

I followed the know-it-all Gryffindor up with my flask. First got attention; nobody cared about second. Snape merely grunted when he saw Granger's flask but actually looked up and said "Good" when he saw mine. I checked the flasks: the liquid was identical in both. I sighed and went to help Daphne Greengrass.

* * *

><p>After lunch I worked on Snape's essay. Tracey showed up, limping slightly, but otherwise unharmed, after two.<p>

"Hi." She stared steadily at my knees. "What- what's the Potions homework?"

I drummed my fingers on my knee, staring at my scribbles. "Hm? Oh." Her words filtered through my head. "A foot on the ingredients in the Draught of Living Death."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her nod hesitantly. She hadn't been like this yesterday. Sure, she'd been quiet, but not nearly this fearful. "What's wrong?"

She sat next to me on a puffy green chair. "I didn't fall down the stairs."

I frowned, rolling up my scroll. "You said you did."

"I was pushed." She wouldn't look at me, staring at her feet instead. Her voice was quiet, face pale.

I blinked. "By who?" My voice was stable, I wasn't sure how.

She shook her head. "I didn't see. Only a Gryffindor pin."

Drumming my fingers again, I lowered my head until my chin rested on my chest. "We need to talk to someone. Preferably Snape."

"No!" I'd pushed her and she reacted, but I hadn't expected that degree of vehemence.

I stood, grabbing my scrolls in one hand. "Why not?" I walked towards our dorm, Tracey following behind.

I heard her scuffle her feet on the carpeted floor. "I dunno. I just don't wanna tell. Anyone."

"You told me," I pointed out, stowing the finished essay in my bag.

She looked at me. "I had to tell someone."

I didn't bother to point out the logical fallacy in this argument. "And now you have to tell Snape." I wasn't budging on this one. "They pushed you down the stairs!"

Tracey winced and I realized I was yelling. "He scares me," she whispered.

I shook my head. "He's our Head of House. You can't be scared." Snape should be scary, I admitted to myself, but somehow I wasn't afraid. I wasn't sure why. He was nothing like anyone I'd ever known, but for me, all that did is make him interesting.

She looked up at me. "Can you come?"

The finger drumming sped up. I already was supposed to see Snape at eight, so if we went… "I'll come, but he has a class now. We should go after dinner."

She relaxed. "Thanks," she said, looking better.

* * *

><p>We spent the afternoon outside, all ten of the first year Slytherins, talking. That was technically a lie: I didn't talk much, preferring to let others- particularly Draco and Pansy- talk. The boys' and girls' groups had merged, forming a larger collection, filled with the same familiar roles. Draco was unquestionably the leader, with Crabbe and Goyle- the only two still called by their last names- as his goons, trusted only because they were too stupid to betray him. Pansy adored Draco, while Theo, Tracey, and Daphne were too quiet and non-confrontational to ever argue with him. That left Blaise and I. We were both foreigners, and while we were purebloods- or so it was assumed- we were still outsiders. We encouraged this opinion by remaining slightly odd and distant.<p>

Dinner was subdued and when it was done, I almost had to drag Tracy down the turn off towards the Potions room.

I opened the door and pulled Tracey in behind me. "Professor? Um. It's Sarah- Sarah Levine," I called softly. Remembering Tracey, I added, "And a friend."

He came out of his office silently, and stood there, sneering slightly. "Miss Levine. And?"

Tracey turned bright red. "Tracey Davies, sir."

The sneer vanished, leaving his face blank. "Why are you in my classroom?'

"Um, sir, well, um. I fell." She stared determinedly at his feet.

He sneered again. "And why do I need to know this?" I catalogued that as a dangerous voice.

"She was pushed sir," I said quickly, "By a Gryffindor."

I watched him focus his anger on a new target. "Are you certain?" He paced across the front of the room.

Tracey nodded. "I think so. I mean, sir, I saw his pin. It was red and gold, sir." She shuffled her feet.

Something throbbed in Snape's jaw. "Anyone could steal a pin, Miss Davies, not just a Gryffindor." He swung behind his desk and pulled out parchment and a quill. "I cannot talk to Professor McGonagall without proof. A pin is not proof." He began scribbling on the parchment. "Lack of proof, however, will not prevent me from helping. I will post this," he poked at the parchment, "in the Common Room. Slytherins are to travel in groups at all times. You are to keep track of any non-Slytherin who is near you in the hallways. Learn the names of everyone in your year and as many others as you can. Protect yourself. Do not use magic unless you have to, but once you start- or they do- do not hold back." He looked at Tracey. "Am I understood?" His voice was silky soft.

Tracey nodded. "Yes sir."

"You can leave." He wouldn't look at me again. "Miss Levine, you said you had a question?"

I silently thanked him for the help and waited until Tracey left.

Snape sighed, leaning forward on his elbows. "Why are you here?" His voice was deadpan again, and weary.

Deliberately misinterpreting his question, I said, "Well, my parents got married, and-"

He barked out a laugh. "No. Why are you in _my_ office." He wasn't asking a question. "Why are you in Slytherin?"

A shudder ran down my spine at his tone. "The Hat put me here."

"I picked up on that, thank you." The sarcasm in his voice dripped off and landed on the floor- roughly at the same level as my stomach. "What exactly did the Sorting Hat tell you?"

"Um- it said I was intelligent." I paused, but all he did is raise an eyebrow. "And ambitious. Cunning, I think, too."

He sneered. "I have yet to see a demonstration of any of these qualities." I glared at him. He raised both eyebrows back. "Continue."

I shuffled my feet. "It said I'd do well in Slytherin. But it also said I'd make a lot of friends in Ravenclaw."

"So the Hat did what the Hat has done with every other Hogwarts student and gave you two choices. Then what happened?" He still wouldn't look at me.

I copied him and stared at the wall above his head. "I told it I wanted to be in Slytherin."

"Ah." His black eyes sought out my brown ones. "Why?"

Feelings were hard for me- they were complicated and wouldn't simplify easily. Now he wanted me to deal with some I really wanted to avoid? Under pressure, my nascent hormones attacked. "Why do you wanna know? I'm in Slytherin, so deal."

Oops. Job done, my hormones abandoned me under Snape's glare. "I did not ask for your opinions," he hissed, standing up and walking out from behind his desk. "I asked for an answer. Why did you want to be in Slytherin?"

I swallowed. "Because you were there."

There was a long silence as I tried to look anywhere but at him. "I am not a nice man," Snape said finally.

I nodded hastily. If nothing else, his treatment of Potter today had taught me that.

"Then why would you be so eager to place yourself under my authority?" He was seeking out my eye contact now.

I began pacing, jerkily walking in front of his desk. The room was silent for a long moment. "You were the only one I knew!" I burst out. "What else did I know? You were honest even when it hurt you. No one else did that," I finished quietly.

Our eyes met again. He broke it first, shaking his head slightly. "Do you have no sense of self-preservation?" I raised my eyebrows. "You could have chosen any other house and not had problems. Here, everyone will hate you." He was speaking in a monotone again, every word carefully enunciated and given the same accent.

I shoved myself away from the desk. "You think I'm that stupid?" I was almost yelling at him, but caught myself in time. "I haven't told anyone." I rubbed my palms reflexively on my robes. "Only Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott. On the train, and I think they've already forgotten. That I'm Muggleborn."

He frowned slightly. "What have you been telling people? Levine is not that common of a name, and I was not aware that there are any wizards that were called that."

"My family's from America." I grinned at him. "They can make their own assumptions."

"Clever." He drummed his fingers. "Does it work?"

I nodded. "No one's pushed past that."

His black eyes examined me again. "Good. Are we done?" He was dryly acerbic.

Swallowing heavily, I shrugged. "I think so."

The silence stretched on until Snape raised one eyebrow. "That was a heavy hint that it was time for you to leave." Sarcasm was dripping from his words like rain.

"Sorry." I gulped. "Um. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Both black eyebrows popped up. "I hope not." I winced but he removed most of the sting by adding, "I have no intention of seeing anyone tomorrow."

I bit my lip, only then remembering that the next day was Saturday. "Oh. Well, bye, then." I left hastily, before the situation became any more awkward.


	4. A Holiday, a Game, and a Secret

**A/N: Here it is! This is a particularly scattered chapter; most of the events in here bear little connection to each other. They're all important in one way or another, but because it's so disjointed, this is also the shortest chapter. Sorry! **

**Thanks still to MyNameIsErnest, and I hope your life smooths out soon. Also thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers, whose names I am afraid I cannot recall right now.**

**To all of my readers, merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, happy Solstice, or other winter festival of your choice!**

* * *

><p>A message went up on the bulletin board that night- apparently the Slytherins would have flying lessons with the Gryffindors the following Thursday. There was some grumbling about sharing more lessons with the Gryffindors, but the conversation was quickly taken over by Draco and his adventures on a broomstick. I pulled out <em>The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)<em> and began reading about an unlocking charm that I thought could be useful.

The second week of lessons was very much like the first until Thursday afternoon. All ten first-year Slytherins walked down together. I hung near the back. The first person in line would be the first person called on. Since all I knew to do with a broomstick was sweep floors, I had no wish to answer questions.

We got outside first, and had the opportunity to watch the Gryffindors straggle onto the large, smooth field we were likely going to be flying on. Twenty broomsticks, looking nothing like their Muggle counterparts, lay in two neat lines on the ground.

Madam Hooch arrived shortly thereafter, a skinny woman with short, grey hair and eyes like a hawk. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" She glared around at us. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." She tapped her fingers impatiently on her thigh.

I found a broomstick conveniently at the end of one line, across from a tall black Gryffindor, who looked like he knew about as much as I did what to do with a broom.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch barked out.

I automatically stepped over the broom to hold out my left hand and shouted, "UP!"

The broom twitched unenthusiastically. Down the line, I saw a broom jump up. Glancing over, I caught sight of the messy black hair that let me know it was Potter.

Returning to glaring at my broom, I growled, "Up." The broomstick flew into my hand.

As I was intimidating my broomstick, Madam Hooch was helping the others, demonstrating mounting techniques, and explaining to Draco that his grip was wrong.

Finally she returned to the head of the lines. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly."

I nodded, pleased at the simplicity of this assignment.

"On my whistle—three—two—"

On the other end of the Gryffindor line, someone jumped early. Neville, predictably –I still remembered his performance in Potions-, was rising straight up into the air. It was clear that he had no control over his broom. He looked down, panicked- for good reason- and slid sideways off the broom.

I winced at the thud when he hit the ground. The broomstick was floating lazily off into the distance, but no one appeared to care.

Madam Hooch had run over to Neville, and was muttering things into his ear. As she helped him stand up, she looked around at the rest of us. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." This last was said in a much kinder tone to the now crying boy.

I had some idea that Quidditch was a wizard sport from conversations held by my house-mates, but I didn't know much more than that. Still, the point was clear.

Even as Madam Hooch and the boy were walking away, Draco burst out laughing. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Crabbe and Goyle laughed, as did Pansy and Millicent. The rest of us hung back, waiting to see how this would go.

One of the Gryffindor girls scowled. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy squealed. "Never thought _you'd _like fat little cry-babies, Parvati." She sneered at the Gryffindor girl.

I filed away the oddity of Pansy calling a Gryffindor by her first name for future refrence.

Draco's eyes light up. "Look!" He darted forward to grab a shiny ball out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

I wondered briefly what I'd missed, and if this had anything to do with where Malfoy had disappeared to during breakfast.

Potter stepped forward. "Give that here, Malfoy."

All chattering stopped.

Draco smirked. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find- how about- up a tree?" He grabbed his broom, evidently preparing something.

"Give it _here_!" Potter lunged for Draco, but the blond had already leapt onto his broomstick and taken off.

Some twenty feet in the air, near the top of some tree, Draco grinned. "Come and get it, Potter!"

Potter's face twisted and he grabbed his broom.

"_No!_" Granger shouted. I recognized- even at the other end of the line- the bushy hair and telltale shriek. "Madam Hooch told us not to move- you'll get us all into trouble."

The black haired boy ignored her. He kicked off from the ground, chasing after Draco. From the moment he left the ground, I could guess the outcome. Potter would intimidate Draco by being a natural on a broom; Draco would do something stupid, and they would both land safely. I had played football for a couple years; I wasn't very good, but I had seen some girls that were. The coach had called them naturals; their skills on the ground were nothing to Potter's in the air.

I was right- or mostly right. Draco threw the shiny ball, Potter dove and caught it, and they both landed. Then Professor McGonagall came out. She was furious. I watched with interest as she first yelled at Harry and then dragged him inside.

It didn't take long for Madam Hooch to come back and shoo us all inside, saying "Class dismissed" and that we'd better try again next week.

At supper, Draco and his cronies once again left the table, heading directly for where Harry Potter was sitting. They talked briefly, before Draco led the way out of the room. I didn't like Draco, though I could see the logic in staying on the right side of him. If half of the things he claimed were true, his father was one of the most influential wizards alive. Nevertheless, I had no wish to be involved in whatever plot he had come up with now. I had read enough to see an epic rivalry brewing between Potter and Draco, and would really rather not be in the middle of it.

That night I paid no attention to Draco's mysterious departure and return. The next morning rumours were flying about students out after curfew, but nothing came of it.

* * *

><p>Weeks passed normally- or as normal as they would ever get in a magical school. Then Halloween came. I managed to spill ink all down my front shortly before dinner- completely on accident- and so was late and in a hurry. I tried to take a shortcut to the Great Hall, got lost, and ended up in a new part of the dungeons. Hearing a voice, I stepped behind a suit of armour and waited for Filtch to pass, hoping he wouldn't give me detention for not being at dinner.<p>

It wasn't Filtch. It was Quirrell. He looked abnormally happy, and as he muttered to himself, he didn't stammer. "I got it in, Master. The Headmaster needs to update the wards if they let a troll in. Getting a bit slow in his old age, isn't he?" He was silent for a moment, and his lips weren't moving, but I still heard whispering. "Yes Master, I'm sorry. I'm going to the Headmaster now." He disappeared around the corner.

Eyes flickering for others, I stepped carefully out from behind the suit of armour. He was gone. I bit my lip. Who should I tell? Of course, there was always the possibility that Quirrell was mad. What was the line from _Alice in Wonderland_? 'We're all mad here.' Perhaps all my teachers wandered around talking about trolls to some unseen Master. I doubted it. Somehow I couldn't see Snape doing anything of the sort. So Quirrell was mad. Who should I tell?

I stopped my circle of the thoughts. I got like this when I panicked, a ring of thoughts that ran at near-light speed but never concluded anything. So. Slow down and apply logic. Who needed to know? Well, Professor Dumbledore, presumably, since he was the one Quirrell had been talking about. The next question was, was it worth it? Unquestionably not. Snape might believe me, but the Headmaster would probably not. That was an idea, though: tell Snape.

I took off at a jog down the corridor, decision made. I rounded a corner, turned right and recognized the dead end that led to the common room. Taking the correct corridor to the Great Hall, I ran up a staircase and straight into Snape.

He looked down at me, black eyes cold. "You are fortunate that I found you first. Go back to the common room. Now."

"But sir-" I almost stopped at the look on his face, but plucked up my courage. "I saw Quirrell!"

His breath hissed out between his lips. "Detention, Miss Levine. Tomorrow night at eight in my office. Now go!" His voice snapped like a whip.

I clenched my fists so hard I felt my nails cut into my palms. "Fine." I knew I was being insolent but I didn't care. Most of the way back to the dead end, I turned to see Snape running- running!- for the stairs that lead upwards.

"Salazar," I told the wall, and ran to my dorm. Everyone else was already there.

"Where were you?" Pansy asked snidely.

I flopped on my bed. "Got lost. Never made it to the Great Hall." I deliberately left Quirrell out.

They ignored me after that. I ignored them back, and eventually went to sleep.

I walked into the Potions classroom the next night. Snape looked at me from behind his desk. "Sit down." I sat. "What, exactly, happened to you last night?"

Hesitating a bit at first, I told him everything, beginning with the ink, and continuing through when I ran into him.

Snape sighed. "What did Professor Quirrell say about the troll?"

"He said that the Headmaster needs to fix the wards if they'd let a troll in. Sir."

I watched an array of emotions march across Snape's face. "And you say that he did not stammer?"

I shook my head. "Not once."

"And there was no one with him? You are certain? There was no way for him to be talking to someone else?" He was leaning forward on his desk.

I bit my lip, trying to think. "I don't think so. He kept replying to questions I couldn't really hear. And I couldn't see anyone."

He nodded slowly, and I got the impression that this information wasn't a surprise. "This detention is over. And-" he made sure our eyes met, "five points to Slytherin."

"Sir?" I'd put myself in danger and gotten a detention. Why was he rewarding me now?

He answered a question with a question. "Do you know what happened last night?"

I shook my head, mute.

"Shortly after you saw him, Professor Quirrell ran into the Great Hall, yelling about a troll in the dungeons. Students were sent to their dormitories, and we- the staff- went to deal with the troll. During the resulting confusion, three Gryffindors- perhaps you know them?" He broke off suddenly.

"Potter?" I frowned. The red-head who followed him around- "Weasley?"

Snape nodded. "And Miss Granger, snuck off to deal with the troll themselves. Somehow Mr Weasley managed to knock out the troll while trying to save Miss Granger. Mr Potter and Mr Weasley were both awarded five points, while Miss Granger was docked five points."

I looked at him. He looked back. I broke first. "So?"

He smirked. "Since you assisted in our investigation of last night, you are eligible for points."

"Ah." No wonder they accused him of favouritism.

He raised an eyebrow. "You are dismissed, Miss Levine."

I left. No point in antagonizing him more. When Draco asked what he'd had me do, I told him I'd scraped out cauldrons.

* * *

><p>I went to the first Quidditch match primarily because everyone else was. I had no interest in the sport, or any sport for that matter. Once we had finally gotten on the brooms, I had been a decent flyer, but not good enough to make it worth working on. After an evening spent in the library researching, I not only knew the basics of Quidditch, but I felt confident enough to tell my housemates that of course I didn't know any teams: Americans followed Quodpot. Still, I found Blaise dragging me down to the Quidditch pitch on the first Saturday in November.<p>

Blaise, Theo, and I had settled into a comfortable friendship, a smaller wheel within the larger one headed by Draco and Pansy. We got along well, although I carefully avoided mentioning my real family. The three of us were all intellectually minded and our skills balanced out such that we all sailed through our classes.

Friendship or not, I fought Blaise all the way into the stands. "I really have no need to be here. Let me go! Drat it, Blaise! I swear I'm gonna demonstrate the Bat Bogie Curse on you!"

Blaise grinned, his white teeth shocking against dark skin. "A threat that would work better if you hadn't left your wand in the dorm. Besides," he said, switching topic, "you haven't seen a Quidditch match yet. Don't you want to learn how they actually work?"

He had me there, and I flounced into the stands, finding a seat next to Theo.

We watched the match eagerly, cheering for Slytherin. I knew some of the players- Higgs, the prefect, was still Seeker, while everyone could recognize Flint well enough to stay out of his way- but I was best acquainted with the Gryffindor Seeker. I poked Theo. "Isn't that Potter?"

Theo raised an eyebrow. "Where've you been the past month? Yeah, that's Potter." He spat the name. "He got in after showing off for McGonagall our first flying lesson. Put Draco in a right snit that he got away with it."

I grunted. Draco's emotional stability- or lack thereof- was none of my concern.

In a flash, the player in question was diving, neck and neck with Higgs. I had to wince when Flint came out of nowhere, ramming into Potter and spinning Higgs off track.

I followed the game closely, fascinated in spite of myself. Gasps suddenly directed my attention upward. Potter's broom had apparently gone mad. It was jerking and rolling around, trying to throw Potter off. For minutes I watched, waiting for the situation to resolve itself, but chaos in the teacher's stand distracted me. When I looked back, Potter was in a controlled dive, straight towards the ground. He hit, coughed and came up with the Snitch.

I looked between the teacher's stand and Harry Potter, and reached a conclusion: one of the teachers was trying to kill the Boy-who-lived. But which one? And why?

* * *

><p>That evening I knocked on the door to Snape's office. He opened it and looked down at me. "Talk to your prefects if you have a problem," he said and closed the door.<p>

I stuck my foot in the way. "Sir, one of the teachers was jinxing Harry Potter's broom at the match today."

He blinked, said, "I know," and opened the door again.

I took this as an invitation and, walking in, sat in the chair facing his desk.

Rolling his eyes, Professor Snape sat behind the desk, glaring at me. "Was there anything else you wished to tell me?" he asked icily.

His tone, and the fact that to all appearances he didn't care, made me suspicious. "Was it you?" I regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of my mouth.

The glare intensified. "Do you really expect me to answer that question?"

I winced. "Sorry sir. Was it Quirrell?" The words poured out of my mouth.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "That information, Miss Levine, is classified." He smirked, and I got the message- _yes._

"Ah." I closed my mouth. "Is there anything-" I paused to reconsider. "Could I help, sir?" If I helped Snape, then maybe he'd like me. And if he liked me, then that would put me in a higher position.

He glared at me, but finally relaxed. "You may tell me if you find anything else of interest," he said coolly.

I thanked him and left. I was getting better at recognizing his dismissals.

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><p>November passed into December, and before I knew it, I was on the train home, sharing a compartment with Blaise and Theo, talking about anything that came to mind. We clambered off the train. I was unprepared for a heart stopping moment when Blaise started looking for my parents.<p>

I laughed nervously. "Oh, my mum prob'ly just got distracted shopping. They'll turn up eventually. No need to wait."

He glanced at me oddly, but to my relief, he left with his mum. We promised to share a compartment on the way back, and I ran through the gate, eager to see my parents again.

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><p><strong>AN: Don't forget to review, please!**


	5. A Talk, a Spell, and a Dog

**A/N: Happy New Year everyone! **

**This is Chapter 5. I really like it, mostly because I managed to cram half of first year into 4000 words. There are some really important scenes in here, so pay attention.**

**Thank you to: Noa Alexandra (twice!), Sarah, ARTtastic, MissVenusVixen (twice!), windwalker28, and DougStone! It really makes my day when I find another review.**

**I'm afraid that life has caught up with my beta. What this means for you is that this chapter is unbeta-ed. I apologize in advance for any stupid mistakes. **

**Please review if you like it!**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm: **_**Nope, not mine. I did get **_**Deathly Hallows, part 2 **_**for Christmas, but I don't think that counts.**

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><p>Hanukkah brought with it presents; one for each night, starting small, but rapidly increasing in excitement value. So the first night I got a bag of chocolate gelt, and on the second, a book on the history of England, while on the last night Mum presented me with a subscription to the <em>Daily Prophet<em> for the next year. I was thrilled.

On December 25th I woke up to discover more presents. Blaise had sent me a book on strange spells- ones that only worked on Fridays, or turned the caster's toenails blue. Theo, meanwhile, gave me a book on pureblood traditions, along with a note acknowledging that while I knew next to nothing about _British_ pureblood traditions, I was still (thankfully) a pureblood. His words, not mine.

I had sent them gifts too, giving them to Blaise's owl when she arrived. They both got candy, but while Theo's had been bought at Hogwarts, Blaise- who had expressed an interest- received a confectionary from _Boots_.

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><p>On January 5th, we took the train back into London. Mum and Dad waved me off as I passed through the gate. Blaise stood on the other side, so close I all but ran into him. He stared past me, at the gate.<p>

I shoved him. "Whatcha looking for?" I was in a good mood, coming back from the holidays, and was feeling up to interacting with boys again.

He stumbled, and stuck his tongue out at me. "Your parents. I wanted to meet them." After a quick glance around, he turned back to me.

I forced a smile on my face. "They didn't need to stay. Dad's gotta big project at work, and he needed to go help."

Blaise shrugged. "I've already got us a compartment, near Draco's." He waved down the train, apparently content to change the subject. He helped me pull my trunk onto the train, Whisper muttering unhappily on top, and we settled down to wait for Theo. I pulled out _The Fellowship of the Ring_, while Blaise began building a tower out of Exploding Snap cards. The whole lot exploded in his face when Theo came in.

We laughed and joked as the train started moving. I read while Blaise and Theo played cards, allowed myself to get dragged into a game, and helped Theo with his Transfiguration homework. Draco came in about halfway there.

"Sarah?" He looked down and shuffled his feet. "No one in there has finished their History."

I translated what I called Slytherin-speak automatically. "I have. I can show you." He couldn't ask for help, and I wasn't about to offer it, but we could dance around the topic.

"I don't need to see it," he said quickly.

Still, he didn't protest when I pulled my homework out of my trunk. Smiling to myself, I followed him to the next compartment. Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were already there. I sat down and began explaining exactly what happened during the Goblin Revolt of 1612.

He actually smiled at me when we were done, and thanked me. I practically bounced back to my compartment. Theo smirked and informed me that since my meeting with Draco had gone so well, I could do the same for him.

By the time we pulled into the station, I had covered- at least in brief- the homework for all of our classes. Blaise was grinning as we walked to the horseless carriages. "So if you're so brill, why is Granger top in every class?"

I ignored him and climbed into a carriage.

Blaise poked me. "Sarah," he whinged. "You know you can talk to me." He flopped on the seat next to me.

Maybe if he didn't get a response he would stop asking questions. Yeah, right.

"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?" He was bouncing now.

I controlled a groan, and began reciting all the curses I knew to myself.

Blaise swung the door shut, suddenly serious. "Sarah. She's not actually smarter than you, is she?"

I looked through the window, into the Forbidden Forrest. "No." My voice quavered and it sounded suspiciously like I was trying to convince myself.

Evidently Blaise heard it too. "Sarah?" He just sat and waited for me to give him an answer.

With the suddenness of an avalanche, I did. "Yes. In some classes, like Charms and Astronomy. But no in Potions and Transfiguration. We're about the same in History of Magic and Herbology." It felt good to share this with someone, and not have to hide it all.

"And Defence?" Blaise asked with a raised eyebrow.

I shrugged. "Unclear. Right now she's better, but that may be because Quirrell's a shoddy teacher."

He crossed his arms. "So the fact that she's got higher marks than you in every class-"

"Means nothing," I said firmly.

Blaise shrugged. "Fine. Tell me more when you're ready."

I had the sneaking feeling that this conversation wasn't over yet, that Blaise would soon call me on _why_ I was letting anyone be better than me, but I shoved that feeling down ruthlessly. Trying to ignore the turmoil inside, I exited the carriage, Blaise belatedly trailing behind.

* * *

><p>A flustered eagle owl brought me my <em>Daily Prophet<em> the next morning. I was determined to learn everything I could about the wizarding world without having to ask potentially dangerous questions, and obsessively reading the newspaper seemed like a good way to do this. I read every article, even the confusing ones. And so, as I flipped to the last page of the _Investments_ section, I began the following article:

"Gringotts Announces Break-in Investigation Closed: Goblins Refuse to Comment."

The article clarified that the break-in had occurred on the 31st of July, that nothing had been taken, mostly because the vault in question had been emptied earlier that day, and that the vault was widely rumoured to be owned by Nicolas Flamel, legendary alchemist and maker of the Philosopher's Stone. Research over the next couple weeks informed me that the Philosopher's Stone could provide both immortality and gold, that Flamel was approaching 700, and that he was friends with Dumbledore.

While this was fascinating, I was far more preoccupied with the loads of homework I was receiving from every class except Defence. Quirrell continued stuttering his way through the lectures, seemingly oblivious to the fact that eventually we would have to demonstrate _some_ practical ability.

My patience with the class ran out one day in late January when Quirrell told us that one could treat a werewolf bite by applying silver. What he neglected to mention was that while pressing silver to the wound would cure the victim of lycanthropy, it would have the unfortunate side affect of killing them.

* * *

><p>That evening found me in the library researching defensive spells. If Quirrell wasn't going to teach me Defence, then I would just have to teach myself. I started with a basic Defence book, and began working my way through the library.<p>

By the end of January I had reached the unpleasant conclusion that I needed somewhere to practice. I could experiment in the common room, but some spells I didn't want to demonstrate in front of others. So I was spending Wednesday afternoons- which I had off- in addition to all of the weekends and after meals, searching for a room to practice in.

I'd already wandered through the upper floors, and found nothing worth using. Running out of ideas, I went down to the dungeons, turned left rather than right, and ended up in the Potions classroom. This late- it was after dinner- the room was deserted and open; all the equipment was gone, leaving the room empty.

I smiled. This was perfect. But where to start? I remembered a spell I'd read about just that day, called 'Point me.' Without any further modifiers, my wand should spin to point north, but if I added another noun, the wand would hopefully point to that thing. It sounded straight-forward, and easy- and best of all, not dangerous.

I pulled out my wand and, laying it flat on my palm, said, "Point me." The wand spun, stopping with the tip headed straight to my belly-button. I smiled, in a self-depreciating fashion. I couldn't know if the spell worked unless I also knew where north was. Shaking my head, I repeated the spell. "Point me Professor Snape."

For a brief moment the wand spun and pointed to the office door before a force caught me below my ribcage and threw me against the wall. My wand fell out of my hands and clattered on the floor. Pain reverberated up and down my spine. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

The door to the office burst open revealing Snape, black robes billowing, wand out. His eyes flicked around the room, finally catching me. "_Petrificus totalus_," he whispered, wand pointed at me.

My limbs snapped straight. I fell to the floor, unable to move. My breath shook and my thought ran around in cramped circles. Had I misjudged him? And if I had, what would he do to me?

After kicking my wand off into the dark, Snape stalked over to the door and waved his wand several times. A shining green light appeared for a blinding second before vanishing again. The professor moved to stand over me. "_Finite incantatem._" With a flick of his wand I could move again. "What did you say to me when we first met?" he asked in a low, breathless voice.

I stared at him a moment, wondering if he had lost his mind. And thinking about how dead I would be if he had. "Um. I asked if you were joking, didn't I, sir?"

"Yes." He relaxed slightly, keeping his wand still pointed at my chest. "What spell did you use on my wards?"

I sat bolt upright, ignoring both the prick of the wand, and the stabbing pain in my chest. "That's what those were?" I sank back down slowly at Snape's glare. "Point me," I whispered.

He lowered his wand. "Looking for somewhere to practice, were we?" His eyes glittered dangerously.

"Yes sir." I looked pleadingly up at him.

He stepped back and let me prop myself up against the wall. "Did it ever occur to you that you could just ask?"

"I- um- I didn't think you would-" I stopped, now standing- barely- and leaning heavily on the wall.

He wasn't paying attention to me. "What have your prefects said about going to your Head of House with problems?"

I blinked. "They said not to disturb you. I only came 'cause if you found me it would be less bad than if someone else did. Sir." The explanation sounded bad. In truth, I didn't really have a reason for not asking him to begin with. It certainly would have made more sense.

"Like Professor McGonagall?" He almost smiled.

I blushed. Had everyone heard about the quarrel between the Transfiguration professor and me? We didn't get along. That was probably an understatement. I questioned her statements and in return, she took points. I didn't care. It had never crossed my mind to go to her for help.

He looked down at me. "You may practice in here, _if_ you obey the following rules."

I nodded frantically. It made my head hurt.

"You will tell me when you arrive and when you depart. You will not come until after supper, and you will not tell anyone. Understood?"

There was more nodding.

"Good. And leave my wards alone." He strode back into his office, robes flapping.

That had to have been the oddest conversation I'd ever been in. He'd started by almost killing me, asked several random questions, and then gave me a place to practice.

I pushed myself off the wall and stumbled to my wand. Everything hurt, my head the most. Apparently my body didn't like being thrown into a wall. It took me three tries to convince my fingers to close around the stick of wood.

Straightening up made my head pound unmercifully. I decided to give the night up as a bad job and try again tomorrow.

* * *

><p>There was a scary sort of pattern to the next few weeks. I would go to classes, do my homework frantically, and arrive in the Potions classroom shortly after dinner. After notifying Snape of my presence, I would practice maniacally for two hours until curfew, and then return to my dorm.<p>

The Change happened at the beginning of March. That was how I thought of it: The Change, complete with capitals. I knew, in a half-hearted way in the back of my head, that the world was not pretty and wonderful and fun, but The Change taught me that firmly and permanently, tattooing that knowledge on the inside of my skull.

It started when I perfected _Alohomora_ and was looking for an actual lock to practice on. Snape had opinions- strong ones- on me practicing _on_ anything in his rooms, which rather sharply curtailed any ambitions I had in that direction.

So evening on the 5th of March found me on the third floor corridor, staring at the lock. A number of things ran through my head. Entry into the corridor would cause death, according to the Headmaster, but if it was sealed with a spell a first-year could open, death couldn't be immediate. Hence, I should be able to practice _Alohomora_, see what was behind the curiously inviting door, and get out of there.

I cast the spell on the overly large deadbolt. It worked perfectly. Very cautiously, I opened the door and peered inside.

Several impressions hit my mind at once. Dogs shouldn't be that big. And they really had no need for that many heads. How did anyone feed the thing? Most importantly, although I didn't realize this until later, why would anyone use a giant three-headed dog to guard a trapdoor?

Frantically I swung the door closed and rammed the deadbolt home. The thing had been asleep, but was already stirring. I walked as fast as I could without drawing attention toward the dungeons. Hopefully someone would come and replace the locking spell.

I had to think. Going to my dorm wouldn't help; the other girls would be annoying and ask what I was doing. I could attempt to find an empty classroom… That was it! I would go down to the Potions room again. And not tell Snape. My conscience stuttered over this- I was supposed to tell him anytime I was in the classroom- but I justified it by telling myself that I wasn't going to _do_ anything, and anyways, if he knew, he would just distract me.

Plopping down cross-legged in the centre of the classroom, I began processing. There was what I _knew_, and what I _wanted_, and an awfully long space in between.

What I knew: There was a giant, three-headed dog on the third floor corridor. The Headmaster knew about it. The enchantments on the door were strong enough to keep the dog in, but not to keep _anyone_ out. The dog was on a trapdoor. The dog had not been there last year.

What I wanted: What was the dog guarding?

I tried to glare at myself. It didn't work. So. That meant I was missing something. There was something rubbing at the edges of my mind: if the Headmaster was hiding something here, why not at Gringotts, which was supposed to be safer? Could the break-in have anything to do with it?

The problem was that there were too many other explanations, most of which were valid even when applying Occam's Razor. Sighing, I got up. There was only one thing to do.

I knocked on Snape's office door. I'd thought of a question that would almost solve the problem.

"Come in." The words were muffled from behind the thick wooden door, but the annoyed tone was clear.

I cracked the door slightly, just enough to allow me to peer in. Snape was sitting at his desk, back to me, hunched over student papers and scribbling frantically. "Sir, I-"

"Thank you, Miss Levine," he said, cutting me off. "You may go practice now." He wasn't looking at me, plainly focused on the papers.

Frowning at him, I said, "Sir, I have a question."

That got his attention. In the weeks I had been practicing, I had never asked him a question, preferring to figure out my problems on my own. He spun around, staring at me. "What?" He did not need to voice a threat for me to hear it.

Suddenly faced with the opportunity I'd been waiting for, it took me a moment to phrase my question. "Sir, does- is- which one, Gringotts or Hogwarts, is the best guarded?"

It turned out that I had not had his full attention before. He motioned for me to step all the way into his office. When I had done so, his wand flicked out and the door slammed shut behind me. His black eyes dug into me. "Gringotts is better known for its security, but it can be broken into and is a popular choice for hiding objects. Hogwarts is not known for security, but because the Headmaster is charged with protecting all the students, it is not difficult for him to extend that protection to something else. Why?"

It was the last piece. Everything made sense. "The third-floor corridor- there's a giant dog there. And it's on a trapdoor. The Philosopher's Stone is beneath the trapdoor, 'cause Flamel's friends with Dumbledore, and they moved it on the 31st of July. Which was a good thing 'cause Gringotts was broken into, an' everybody knows that Gringotts is safe, but they don't think about Hogwarts." I stopped. There was something missing. Why would Flamel move the Stone? I drummed my fingers. "Flamel moved the Stone 'cause You-Know-Who wants it 'cause it could make him immortal." I finally focused my eyes on Snape.

He had the most fascinating expression on his face, an odd mix of astonishment, glee, and shock. After blinking twice, he said, "And how many school rules did you need to break to figure this out?"

I counted on my fingers, and then ran through events again, just to check. "One," I told him. "The one about the third-floor corridor." I smiled, making a brave- and failing- attempt to project confidence.

The odd expression remained. "Most of the information you just recited is classified." He raised an eyebrow at me, probably hoping that I would reveal more information.

I frowned again. "If it was, wouldn't it be harder to figure out? I mean, a not particularly dedicated first-year found out. 'S not like it was well hidden."

He actually smiled. "It is a trap. The Headmaster was hoping to draw the Dark Lord in while he is weak and hidden. In addition, he wants to see what the Potter boy can do. A first-year was supposed to figure it out." He smirked at me. "By June. To my knowledge, they have not progressed beyond the Stone being in Hogwarts, and possessed by Flamel. As they are being more antagonistic than usual in class, I suspect that they think I am after the Stone." This was deadpanned.

"At the risk of sounding moronic-"

He smirked broader. "Too late."

I almost stuck my tongue out, but remembered who I was talking to. Even if he was acting more than usually odd. "It's not you, is it? Because if you were working for You-Know-Who, you wouldn't be so obviously creepy. It would be someone like Quirrell."

"Professor Quirrell," Snape corrected. He conspicuously did not bother, however, to comment on who was working for You-Know-Who. "Are you happy now that you have figured out this year's grand secret?" He raised an eyebrow.

I nodded. There was too much to process. Leaving quickly, I sat on the floor of the classroom again. More lists.

What I knew: The Philosopher's Stone was on the third-floor, hidden underneath a giant dog. It had been owned by Flamel, but was currently here to tempt both You-Know-Who and Harry Potter. Potter and his friends had not figured this out yet. Dumbledore was manipulating things.

What I wanted: ?

That stumped me. I couldn't come up with any unanswered questions, and settled for listing conjectures instead.

What I probably know: There probably is a teacher working for You-Know-Who, and it's probably Quirrell. There probably is supposed to be a confrontation between him and Potter, and it should end up good for Potter. Dumbledore probably knows what he's doing.

I found the problem. There were too many guesses on Dumbledore's side, too many ways for it to go very, very wrong. But he was an adult, and smart, and really old, and so he had to have figured this out long before. And if he hadn't, Snape surely would have pointed it out to him. So Dumbledore knew that there were too many risks involved and was ignoring them anyways. Why? I came up with three choices: he literally didn't care what happened to Potter, he had safeguards and simply wasn't telling anyone about them, or what would happen if he didn't use this plan would be worse than having the current situation go as wrong as possible.

That last one scared me. They all did, really, but the third option was almost worse. If the first one, then Dumbledore was actually evil and had been hoodwinking the whole world for years. Which would be bad, but not wholly unexpected. If the second, great! I didn't want to know everything about a situation that sounded very, very dangerous. There was an excellent reason I wasn't in Gryffindor. And if the third? Well, that meant the world had a lot more ways to go wrong than I wanted to think about.

Children believe the world is happy and pretty and nice. I couldn't. That hurt. The world was dark and cruel and not nice. I got up and went to bed, hoping that this would sort itself out in my head.

* * *

><p>After that, the events of the rest of the year were almost predictable. Well, except for the dragon catastrophe. The gamekeeper got a baby dragon. Potter &amp;co found out about it, and persuaded him to send it off with friends to the continent. Draco found out and tried to get Potter &amp;co in trouble- fortunately, <em>after<em> they got rid of the dragon. He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams: Gryffindor lost 150 points and sank to the bottom of the running.

I ignored the drama and focused on the plotting going on several levels above. How much danger would Potter have to be in before Dumbledore stepped in?

Exams went startlingly well, considering my lack of studying. On the last day of exams, Potter &co disappeared, and the rumours started.

I had no doubts about where they were, or what they were after, and so was able to watch in amusement as my dorm-mates came up with increasingly silly ideas about why Harry Potter, of all people, was missing. To my further amusement, little mention was made of Granger or Weasley. At one point Pansy was convinced that Potter had been abducted by Flitwick, who apparently was part goblin and so was obviously planning to take over the world. I was mostly able to stifle my giggles.

When, three days later, Potter made his way down to the feast, Pansy was sorely disappointed, but perked up when I pointed out that Quirrell was still missing.

Dumbledore rigged the House Cup, and anyone who hadn't seen that coming deserved to lose. Of course Gryffindor would win. Potter was in Gryffindor. I didn't care. The House Cup was a bribe to ensure that we stayed in line. Since I had no intention of breaking rules unless I had to, there was no point in caring.

Draco sulked though, from the beginning of the feast all the way through King's Cross, where I finally managed to ditch him. He appeared to have decided that since I was more rational than any of the other girls, more intelligent than most of the boys, and more trustworthy than Blaise, I was okay to rant to. This had started in February, continued all the way through The Change- although no one but me realized that that had happened- gone without a hitch through Easter Break- which virtually no one had bothered to go home for, including me- and seemed likely to last through the summer as well. He wasn't ranting _at_ me, where I was the one he was displeased with; rather, he was ranting _to_ me, where I simply happened to be there when he opened his mouth.

I had no problems with this. Whether Draco realized it or not, he was handing me information that I had no hopes of getting anywhere else. Plus, the more he ranted to me, the more he trusted me, and someday I might be able to use that.

At King's Cross, I ditched Blaise by claiming to need to talk to Draco, and Draco by claiming to need to talk to Blaise. When both were confused, I slipped out through the gate to join my parents.

END OF YEAR ONE.


	6. A Train, A Week, and a Defense Teacher

**A/N: I'm really, **_**really**_** sorry. I didn't get as much done over break as originally planned, and then when I started school again, my teachers decided to remind us that the semester was approaching and assign fifty-two projects. This may happen again, just so you're aware. I will post on my profile on any Sunday that I will not be able to update, so check there first. **

**Thanks t****o ****MissVenusVixen, Noa Alexandra, Undapper Thoughts, geekyxchild, and BoOkWoRm88424 for reviewing. **

**Again, apologies for stupid mistakes. This one's not beta-d either; I didn't want to take the time and risk delaying it even more.**

**And FYI: The British school year has three terms, 'knocked up' is British slang for getting pregnant, and 'playing merry hell' refers to causing disruption. Don't worry! The references are all in dialogue. It'll all make sense in context.**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm**_**: Is this really necessary? Does anyone actually read these things?**

* * *

><p>Second year really started on the train. The second-year Slytherins had claimed three compartments in a row, with Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle in one; me, Blaise, Theo and Daphne a second; and Millicent, Tracey, and all our trunks in a third.<p>

We'd been moving barely ten minutes when Granger stuck her head in. She visibly winced on seeing us. "Drat, I'd hoped…" She trailed off, flushing red.

Blaise and Theo were scowling at her, while Daphne had not yet picked up on the presence of anyone else. Quickly checking to see if anyone would care, I motioned Granger out into the passageway. "Did you need something?" I asked rather rudely. I noticed she was wearing a Gryffindor pin.

She looked down. "I'm looking for Harry and Ron. They don't appear to be on the train."

Several thoughts, most of them unkind, flashed through my head. Weighing the options, I rapidly decided to help her. In some classes she was better than me, and it could be useful to have a friend in "the Golden Trio," as Snape called them. "Dunno. Have you talked to the other Weasleys?"

Granger blinked. It hadn't appeared to have occurred to her that I might help. "Er. No. I mean, I already looked up and down the train, but I haven't talked to anyone. Other than you." She must have been nervous; her words tumbled over each other like kittens going down stairs.

"Ah." I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to attack you here on the train. I honestly don't think we know enough to attack each other." She was so tense I thought she'd break if I tapped her. Reminding her that I had no reason- or way- to hurt her should help.

She relaxed. "I- I knew, but-"

I grinned. "It's fine. Slytherin and Gryffindor never got along, so why should you expect us to? Then you throw in Draco and Potter, and you'd be expecting everyone with a snake on their robes to be walking around stabbing people in the back."

She looked confused for a moment, but finally decided to smile. "And you don't expect everyone with a lion on their robes to stab you in the back?"

I laughed at that. "Nah. Gryffindors would stab me in the front." I raised an eyebrow. "Should we go find some Weasels?"

Granger glared at me, and I cursed myself for the slip. I was too used to being with Draco, who insulted all the Gryffindors he knew.

"Sorry. Some Weasleys, is what I meant." I held a hand out in apology.

She inspected me, and shook my hand. "Don't do it again, please."

* * *

><p>Four compartments down we found the Weasley girl, along with a girl and a boy I didn't know. I hung back, letting Granger stick her head in. "Ginny? Can you come out for a second?"<p>

The ginger popped up, apologized to the other children, and bounced into the corridor. "Yeah?" She looked up at Granger.

"Have you seen Harry or Ron on the train? I can't find them." Granger shrugged, like having two-thirds of the Golden Trio vanish was a normal occurrence- which it probably was, come to think of it.

Weasley frowned. "They were right behind me coming through the gate, but we were running late, so I didn't pay too much attention to whether or not they made it on the train or not."

Granger bit her lip. "I can't find them on the train. But I could've missed them, or they could be in the loo-"

"Easy, Granger," I said. "If you can't find them, then they're not on the train." At her sceptical glance, I continued. "I've seen you in class. Anything you don't know isn't going to be on the test."

Weasley laughed. "From all Ron told me, you've described her pretty well. I'm Ginny." She grinned at me.

"Sarah Levine," I replied.

Granger glanced at me, clearly worried that me- a Slytherin!- was being nice to a Weasley, but didn't comment. Instead she returned to the missing Gryffindorks. "Well, if they aren't on the train, how are they going to get to Hogwarts?"

Weasley shrugged. "Mum 'n Dad 'll have them floo. It'll be fine, Hermione, don't worry," she said in a clearly patronizing tone.

I nodded. "All appearances to the contrary, they're not stupid." I smiled at Hermione. "I'll be going now, since you've solved your problem."

She looked like she wanted to scold me for the backhanded compliment, but settled for nodding.

I walked off, but stopped just outside the door to the next carriage. Behind me, even through the glass door, I heard voices:

"What's up? You look ill."

"Nothing." A pause. "Levine's in Slytherin."

"Oh. She's nice though."

"That's how she acted, you mean."

"How many times have you told Ron to think before he judges? What are you doing now, then?"

Silence. I slipped away before I heard anything else.

* * *

><p>Back in our compartment, I made my excuses to Blaise and Theo, reminding them that my family was neutral, and I intended to play both sides to ensure it stayed that way. I'd just finished <em>Over Sea, Under Stone<em> when the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station.

This year we were directed to a long line of horseless carriages. Draco caught my arm as I was about to get in one with the others.

"Come with me, will you?" He glanced around and dragged me to the end of the line.

I followed, somewhat unwilling to leave the others. Still, if Draco wanted to talk privately, great! Then he'd trust me more, and I might be getting somewhere.

After pulling me into the carriage and closing the door, Draco locked eyes with me. "Are you a pureblood?"

I blinked. I hadn't really envisioned the way this conversation was supposed to go, but that question wasn't in there anywhere. "Yes." For all the turmoil in my head, my voice was steady. It had to be.

"Good." He relaxed. "I'd thought so, but-" He waved a hand. His eyes flickered around the carriage. "There are things happening this year." He saw me open my mouth and grinned. "No, Sarah, I don't know what they are."

I stuck my tongue out. "Do you have any ideas?"

Draco shrugged. "It's nothing pretty, and it's targeting Muggle-borns. Other than that…" He trailed off. "My father's behind it, but what would you expect?"

I looked at him. "This is something I don't want to know about, right?" I had a sneaking suspicion that whatever was going on was going to be dangerous, unpleasant, and probably illegal.

He nodded. "I just wanted to know-" He stopped and changed direction. "I've met the parents of everyone else in our year, and they're all wizards. I don't want anything to happen to any of you." Draco's eyes flickered away from me.

I started to say something, but stopped myself in time. Draco wouldn't want to be accused of caring for people- even if it was correct.

We rode in silence up to the castle. I followed Draco into the Great Hall, plopping down between Blaise and Theo. Blaise leaned over to me. "Draco have anything to say?"

I shook my head. "Nothing of import." My conscience twinged at this blatant lie, but I ignored it. If Draco though Blaise needed to know, he would have told him. Otherwise, it wasn't my secret to reveal.

He grunted, curiosity satisfied. "Did you see who our new Defence professor is?" he muttered as the first years began filing in.

I scanned the high table. "Oh, lord," I replied. "Lockhart." I'd read enough of our new textbooks to realize that he was an egotistical prat who stole others' glory. "Wasn't there something in the _Prophet_ about him?"

Blaise snickered. "You read the _Prophet_?" he asked, smirking.

I stuck my tongue out. "I've only been reading it for nine months now. I'm surprised you noticed."

He shrugged. "Well, I'm not one to talk. Mum gets this nothing of a rag from France, so…" He glanced up at the high table again. "Snape's not here."

My head popped up. I ignored the Sorting Hat's song to scan the table. "You're right, he's not. But why?"

Across the table, Ashley Zeller leaned over. "Sometimes he's gone. Usually it's 'cause there's missing students. 'S the only duty the teachers don't share, on account of how Snape likes to scare students." She smirked.

I smiled. "Thanks." Older students were good ones to be friends with, and though I hadn't needed her last year, I doubted I would be so lucky forever.

We were silent for the Sorting. I watched Ginny- who Draco had already dubbed "the Weaselette"- get into Gryffindor, while the sandy haired boy and blonde girl who had been with her were placed in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw respectively.

When the Sorting was finished, the doors to the Great Hall burst open. Snape strode in, looking crankier than ever, robes billowing ominously. He went straight to the high table and spoke quickly to Dumbledore and McGonagall. The Transfiguration professor scowled.

Draco smirked from the other side of Blaise. "Oh good. It's Gryffindors." He craned his neck. "Quick, who's missing?"

I rolled my eyes. "Potter and Weasley. Remember, from the train?"

He made a face at me, but quickly subsided. Snape passed by our table, trailed by McGonagall. His hand flicked out and a newspaper landed in front of Draco. Unrolling it, the blond grinned.

"That's brill," he hissed.

I leaned across Blaise to see. The headline read "Flying Ford Anglia Mystifies Muggles." Above that, in Snape's spiky handwriting, was "Potter & Weasley."

I had to grin as well. "Those idiots."

Blaise was smirking now, and the paper was being passed around. I was so engrossed in the discussion now being bandied about our table I scarcely noticed Dumbledore talking. I did, however, manage to move swiftly enough to avoid getting food on myself as it appeared, unlike Draco, who ended up with an elbow in his meat-pie.

Even as Ashley was pulling out her wand to _scourgify _him, I was watching Dumbledore. The Headmaster had left the high table and was walking down out of the Great Hall, following Snape and McGonagall.

The Feast was lovely. When the paper had made its way around the Slytherin table, Ashley tossed it to a friend at the Ravenclaw table. Later I saw it get passed to the Hufflepuffs.

About midway through, the teachers returned: Snape- smirking- McGonagall- scowling- and Dumbledore- with a much subdued twinkle.'

I glanced at Draco. "What's going to happen to them?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Worried?" Smirking, he continued, "They won't lose points, as the year hasn't started yet, but they'll probably get detention."

I nodded and finished my supper.

* * *

><p>Classes started the next day, following Weasley's spectacular Howler at breakfast. For the most part they were unchanged: Flitwick still chirped merrily around the classroom, McGonagall still scowled at me, and Snape still lurked in the dungeons like an overgrown bat, terrifying the Gryffindors.<p>

Herbology, when we finally had it, was exciting. We were in Greenhouse 3, where apparently the more dangerous plants were kept- they couldn't be too dangerous, though, as we were only twelve- and Professor Sprout was in full flow about mandrakes. Occasionally she would pause to ask us a question, to which I dutifully raised my hand, but mostly she stood and talked. Finally she let us approach the long tables and work on re-potting the mandrakes.

Any interest I had in the lesson promptly vanished. I could be interested by them in the abstract, but the actual plants were simply creepy. They moved and yelled like toddlers, but were wood brown with sprouts out of the top of their heads.

I tried not to think about what I was doing as I worked. When we were done, I went up to Professor Sprout. "M'am, did you talk to the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs for that long?"

She looked at me steadily. "No. The Gryffindors wouldn't care, and the Hufflepuffs wouldn't listen."

I blinked. I wouldn't have suspected Sprout of being that canny. "Oh." My eloquence seemed to have temporarily deserted me. "Well. I'm sorry for taking up your time. I'll just go now."

Sprout smiled gently. "No matter, Miss Levine. 'Tis no crime to question. Although I must admit to some surprise that you weren't placed in Ravenclaw." Her brown eyes caught mine.

_Her _surprise was nothing compared to _mine_. I hadn't seen this side to Sprout before. "The Sorting Hat tried," I told her, interested to see what her reaction would be. It wasn't a big deal for me to tell her- I couldn't care less who knew- but the information was interesting.

She nodded sedately. "Most students are given a choice. I, myself, could have chosen Ravenclaw."

There was _nothing_ at that moment that could have surprised me more.

She must have seen this on my face, for she said, "Not all Hufflepuffs are stupid, dearie, just as not all Slytherins are betrayers."

I made a face, but managed to keep from saying anything.

"Don't you have a class to go to?" she asked. If she hadn't been Head of Hufflepuff, I would have sworn she was smirking.

I nodded and thanked her again. Snarling as the bell rang for the start of lunch, I ran in to wash up.

* * *

><p>All of the bad impressions I had formed of Lockhart before class began were only reinforced upon meeting him. The hair was wavier and more prominent than it had been in the pictures- which I hadn't thought possible- and his clothes were so far from matching that I worried that he was colour-blind.<p>

I found a seat in the back next to Blaise just as Lockhart walked in. He smiled, made some comments that I proceeded to ignore, and began passing out a test. When it reached me, I had to stare at it for a minute. It started with "What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?" and continued on for a page and a half to finish with "When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?" It took another minute for me to come up with a plan. There was no way, after all, that I was actually going to answer the questions on the test.

Smirking, I pulled out my wand and pointed it at the stack of books on the floor next to me. "_Abra_," I whispered. The top book flipped open, and I began to copy, word for word, the first pages of _Wanderings with Werewolves_.

By the time Lockhart told us to pass our papers in- he couldn't even manage a simple Summoning Charm!- I had covered both sides of one sheet and most of the front of the second. Lockhart began flipping through our papers, idly correcting answers out loud. The look on his face when he got to mine was priceless. He waved the paper, covered in lines of messy script. "Whose is this?"

I raised my hand, all innocence. "Me, sir. Sarah Levine." I smiled brightly at him.

He blinked, clearly nonplussed. "And what questions were you answering?" If anyone else had asked that question it would have sounded scathing, but he merely appeared confused.

"Oh," I said slowly. "That's what those were?"

Draco snickered, and Blaise had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.

I continued projecting innocence. "I thought we had to write our favourite passage from one of your books," I told him, absolutely straight faced.

It was Lockhart's turn to say "Oh." He blinked again. "Well, try to listen better next time, okay?"

Blaise fell out of his chair, laughing. I wished I could do the same. If I had tried that excuse with any other teacher, I would have lost points, and probably been given a detention. Lockhart, though, didn't seem to notice that I was blatantly lying to him.

Class proceeded calmly until the introduction of the Cornish pixies. I'd read about them as a lesser class of magical pest, and knew how to get them to go away: pixies, like poltergeists, fed off of negative emotions. If I didn't react to them, they would go off to find other victims to pick on. I sat quietly as the pixies shot into the room, a group swirling around me briefly, before going off to pester Blaise.

I watched in amusement as Lockhart's wand went out the window- his notes quickly following- pictures were torn off the walls, students pinched, holes torn, and the room generally made chaotic. When the bell rang for the end of class, I was first out, suspecting- rightly, as it turned out later- that the last person in the room would be made to clear up the pixies.

I was joined in the Common Room by Draco, who'd clearly had the same suspicion. We both collapsed into chairs. "Fun class, huh?" I asked sarcastically. "Why'd Dumbledore hire him?"

I'd been friends with Draco since the train ride after Christmas. I gave him help on his homework, and he gave me information about the wizarding world.

Draco groaned. "Well, that's the question, isn't it?" He grabbed a piece of paper from his bag. "When Father was here years ago," he said with an expansive gesture, "they had the same problem. There hasn't been a Defence teacher who lasted more than three terms for ages." His hands fiddled with the paper, tearing a strip off one side.

I frowned. "How long is 'ages?' And give me that, before you destroy it." I grabbed the paper from him.

He kicked me. "Fine. Um, gimme a moment. Or the paper, an' I could try to work it out."

Reluctantly, I handed the paper back to him.

Pulling a quill from his bag, he began scribbling names and numbers. "Well, I'm twelve, and its 1992. Father was born in 1954, so he entered in 1965. And since he had seven different Defence teachers- actually, he told me that in his third year, they had two, one who blew up a classroom and got fired, and the other managed to get knocked up, and couldn't come back the next year. So he had eight-"

"The point, Draco?" I interrupted. Maths wasn't my best subject, despite my abilities in Potions: I put it down to instinct, which worked in Potions and hadn't in maths.

He rolled his eyes. "Right. So. If it's 1992 now, and he entered in 1965, then that would be twenty-seven years ago. So at least that long. But he had friends who were older, and I think that they had the same problem, going back to at least 1955. Thirty-seven years, give or take a few." He smirked.

I frowned. "So that's at least thirty-seven different teachers-"

"Thirty-eight," Draco corrected. "Don't forget-"

I groaned. "I know Draco. Don't forget your da's third year. Either way, that's a lot of professors. So it's no wonder that they're having problems finding another. But surely there was someone else? Anyone else?"

Draco laughed quietly. "Don't mention that to Snape or he'll play merry-hell. He's been asking for the job ever since he came here, but the old coot won't give it to him." He chucked the paper into the fire.

Biting my lip, I stared at the merrily burning paper. "Why not? He'd be loads better than Lockhart." I spat the name.

He shrugged. "Dumbledore used to be head of Gryffindor. That's gotta have something to do with it. Doesn't matter, anyway. There's nothing we can do about it, except try not to get too far behind on our O.W.L.s."

With that, the others joined us. It transpired that Pansy and Millicent were staying after to clean up, and Theo, with no desire to help them, but who did want to see Lockhart embarrassed, was notifying Snape.

I resolved to spend more time than ever in the Potions classroom, practicing spells.


	7. A Fight, a Chamber, and a Snake

**So… Rating change! All kinds of things in this chapter. Yes, she is twelve, but there are aeons of growth between nine-year-olds and thirteen-year-olds, and fanfiction . net doesn't have a rating for those in the middle.**

**This chapter was not only written on time, but it also has been edited (albeit only by me). All of this is thanks to the Snow-pocalypse, Snow-mageddon, Winter Extreme, Mid-mid-winter break, or whatever you want to call it when it snows 12 inches in Seattle. I haven't had school since the 13th. Am not looking forward to going back tomorrow. Somehow this also ended up as the longest chapter yet. Don't know what happened.**

**Thanks to: windwalker28, iwright, and MissVenusVixen. You guys make my day when you review.**

**WARNINGS: Mild swearing, mentions of violence and trauma, as well as descriptions of menstruation. I wouldn't let my 10 year old brother read this.**

**_Lawyer Banishing Charm:_ I really don't think anyone reads these things. Still not mine, still wish it was. _Le sigh_.**

* * *

><p>Slashing my wand down, I shouted the charm. A blue light fuzzed into existence at the tip of my wand, and just as quickly fuzzed out. I swore, and repeated the process, in the vain hope that doing the exact same thing repeatedly would change the overall result. It didn't. Swearing again, I stomped over to the chair that I had gotten out and flopped down.<p>

This was my third night working on the Shield Charm and I still wasn't getting it. It was the longest I'd ever spent on any spell. And yet, it still wouldn't work.

Catching my breath- and my temper- I got out of the chair again. There was nothing to do but practice it again. And again and again. Until it made sense.

"_Protego!_" I threw all my frustration, all my anger at the spell. All my distrust of my friends, all my despair that no one would ever know me, all my worry about Draco's vague warning, all my stress about this year went into this.

For a moment it worked.

The blue light grew, expanding to include me. And then it kept growing. I felt my magic rushing out to support the bubble. It wasn't responding to my increasingly frantic attempts to break the spell. The shield expanded, filling the room. It bulged against the walls. When it broke, I heard a blast, quickly followed by yelling.

"It's the IRA! Those bloody bastards have done it again!"

"Help! There's a girl hurt!"

"Someone phone the bobbies!"

"They're already here, you idiot." The same voice, louder: "Sir! Sir! There's a child down!"

"Clear the street! Let the bobbies through!"

Someone's hand on my shoulder. I turned towards them, eyes closed. "What were you doing?" A voice, icy cold. Scathing and bitter.

I turned away. "Shoppin'. Lookin' fer a place ta live when Daddy gets his new job." I curled into myself. Something was wrong. It hovered at the back of my head, itching. Something wasn't right, it didn't fit. I ignored the feeling. My stomach turned over and I felt like I wanted to throw up.

The hand was on my chin. "Drink this." The same voice, warmer. Nicer, somehow.

I opened my mouth. Something was poured in. I swallowed some, breathed in more, and spat out the rest. What was left hit my stomach and I did throw up. The vomit covered my mouth. It tasted bad, but I couldn't summon the energy to move.

The hand- now joined by its counterpart- turned me over, and positioned my head above something. I cracked my eyes open. A bucket. Odd. There hadn't been a bucket here before. I closed my eyes again. It was easier.

I vomited until I dry heaved. When I was done, a vial tapped my chin. "Try again," the voice said.

I let myself be rolled back over as the vial was tipped down my throat. All of it went down this time. The nausea vanished. "Magic?" My voice sounded awful. Had I been screaming?

"Can you sit up?" The voice was ignoring my previous question. The hands propped me into a sitting position.

My head announced that it wasn't too happy with this turn of events, and I moaned. Everything hurt now. Why hadn't I noticed earlier?

There was a groan. "Drink this too." Another vial was dumped into my mouth. This one tasted worse. The pain went away through, so that was nice.

Finally, I opened my eyes. The voice and the hands belonged to Professor Snape, who was crouched on the ground, glaring at me. "Now that you are cognizant again," he punctuated this with a glare, "would you mind telling me exactly what you were doing?" It was not a question.

I shuffled through my memories, which were mysteriously jumbled. "I was trying to cast the Shield Charm," I said, looking up.

Snape frowned. "And why were you trying to cast a notoriously difficult charm that is taught to fifth years as a second year?"

There were several answers to this, none of which I wanted to tell him. I settled for the easiest. "I thought it looked useful." I wrapped my arms around my folded legs.

He sneered at me. "You are twelve. There is nothing that would require you to use a Shield Charm."

I snarled. "If we were being taught anything in Defence, I wouldn't need to teach myself. And then I would know what spells were _acceptable_ to my age." Avoiding the question was the first trick of any Slytherin.

"So? Your classmates do not have this problem." He stood.

Stubbornly, I copied him. This was a mistake. My legs wobbled, and I sat back down again. "Then they're stupid."

Looking down at me, Snape curled back his lips. "No. That would be you, Miss Levine. Only you were moronic enough to experiment with an advanced spell in an empty room with no backup."

I hated being called stupid. I had hated it since I was five and had started school in England, where all the other kids called me stupid for speaking with the wrong accent. That had ended rapidly as, in what I retroactively realized was my first act of magic, I had arrived for the second day of school with a perfect north-of-England accent.

That word rattled in my head as I said the first truly stupid thing of the night. In my defence, I was tired, injured, provoked, and hormonal. "I bet Dumbledore turns you down every year because you're incapable of teaching Defence."

He stared at me for a moment. "I assure you, Miss Levine, that that is incorrect." The words were quiet, and all the more scary for that.

"Then why won't he let you teach? Or maybe you offer every year just for show, but would be too scared to take the job if Dumbledore ever actually accepted." To this day, I am still surprised he let me finish that sentence.

The room was deadly silent for a minute. "The privilege of practicing in this room is hereby revoked," he breathed. "You will head back to your dormitory now."

I glared at him. "Fine. You know what? I don't need you. I bet you are a coward. Always hiding down here in-"

"_Silence!_" he bellowed. "You will show respect to your teachers. And you will refer to me as 'sir.'" He was flushed and breathing hard.

Thinking of it, so was I. "Yes, _sir_." I looked down, leaving before anything else could go wrong.

* * *

><p>Curling up on my bed, I began to cry. It was all too much. The failed spell, the argument with Snape, detention… And the flashback. Tears flowed as I remembered the incident.<p>

When I was three, Dad had first talked about moving to England. We had visited for Christmas that year. In London, outside Harrods, the IRA had planted a car bomb. It exploded as we exited the store. Excited to be in another country, I ran out first. I was the only one in our group caught in the blast. The incident had resulted in a weeklong hospital stay and intensive consoling, both in England and back home. They had diagnosed me with mild Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, which was to be expected, but I'd thought that was done with. I hadn't had a flashback in years.

Well, now they had returned. That would mean nightmares. I was so looking forward to having nightmares again.

I rolled over, ignoring my roommates as they returned. It made no difference. Daphne still came over to me, probably seeing my shaking shoulders. "What's wrong, Sarah?"

"Nothin'." I muttered. "'m fine."

Soon all four of them were clustered around my bed. "No, you're not," Daphne pronounced. "Can you tell us what's going on?"

The true answer to that: no. The answer I wanted to give: yes. My mouth opened. "Some of it," I said. "I- When my family came over, we spent a few days in Muggle London." I checked reactions.

They were all nodding, and even Pansy said, "At least those creatures can do something right. There are some beautiful buildings down there."

"And- and." I stopped and took a deep breath. "A Muggle terrorist group attacked one day. They blew up a car. It hit me." Somehow it was easier to talk about if I forgot that it had happened to me, and pretended that someone else had gotten hit in the head with a sheet of metal. "Sometimes… I remember it. It takes me hard, some days."

Daphne hugged me, and Millicent soon joined. Pansy gave me an understanding smile that made me wonder exactly what was going on in her household, and Tracey patted my shoulder.

Pansy spoke for them all. "We understand. We all have things we would prefer to forget."

I nodded slowly. We remained together for a moment. Returning to their own beds, all the other girls stopped to smile and hug me. Something twitched in my chest. It was too easy to forget that there was goodness in everyone.

* * *

><p>Halloween snuck up on me. I made my way up to the feast on time this year, which was a plus, to sit between Blaise and Draco, and across from the Bloody Baron, which I could have done without.<p>

The wide-spread rumours about the troupe of dancing skeletons turned out to be just that, although there were giant pumpkins, live bats, and a visiting vampire, who sat at the High Table and refused to talk to anyone.

When the feast was over, we trickled out of the hall. I followed Draco, who was in a mood tonight. Apparently whatever he had expected to happen this year wasn't, and now he was ticked. Not only had his father let him down, but he had been revealed to care about me, which he severely disliked. Thus, we were taking the long way around to the dungeons, as Draco was hoping to walk off his anger before returning to the Common Room.

Midway along the second-floor corridor, we came to a blockage. Draco pushed his way to the front. I followed, wanting to see what the fuss was about. I quickly wished I hadn't.

We were near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, which was probably where all the water came from. On the wall, in something that looked disturbingly like blood, was "THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE." Just below it was Mrs. Norris, hanging by her tail from the torch bracket, unnaturally stiff. Across the hall stood the Golden Trio, Harry on point, with various expressions of shock on their faces.

My stomach relocated itself to my pelvic region. I felt sick.

Draco, eyes bright, grinned. "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

The word made me flinch. I could have happily killed him at that moment. Fortunately, any murderous desires were quickly suppressed by the arrival of teachers, starting with Filch, but quickly progressing to Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape.

The Headmaster took control of the situation quickly. It was the first time I had seen him outside of meals, and I took the opportunity to observe him closely. He rescued Mrs. Norris from the torch, and glanced around at the rest of the crowd. "Come with me, Argus," he told the caretaker. "You, too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger."

Lockhart had shown up by this point, looking thrilled at the action. "My office is nearest, Headmaster," he said, beaming. "Just upstairs – please feel free –"

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Gilderoy."

As they passed us, I tugged Draco's arm. "Let's go downstairs and talk."

He nodded, and began collecting the others. We tromped down to the dungeons, silent. The other Slytherins were there, and we separated out into year-groups; seventh-years next to the fire, and firsties in the back corner. As second-years, we were able to claim a chair, which we piled on and around until the black leather could barely be seen.

Draco was first to speak. "Well, that was interesting." He looked around at us from his seat in the middle of the chair.

We murmured agreement.

He frowned, leaning forward. "But what's this about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"You haven't heard of it?" I asked impatiently. I had ended up sitting on the low back of the chair, sprawled uncomfortably such that my hip was next to Draco's head, and my feet all but hit Theo.

Draco twisted to look at me. "No, Sarah. If I had, I would be talking about it."

I shrugged, a difficult feat in my position. "I have." There was instant silence. "It's in _Hogwarts, a History_. Want me to go get it?" I smirked.

Blaise groaned. "Yes, Sarah, do oblige us idiots down here and get the book."

I stuck my tongue out at him, and went to go get the tome. My birthday present had been money to spend in Diagon Alley, and I had gotten an Undetectable Extension Charm put on my trunk so I could bring all my books to school.

Coming back, I flipped through it to the end of the chapter about the Founders. "Here it is. 'The stories about Slytherin's departure are as numerous as they are wild. Claims ranging from his murder of another Founder, to an attack on him, to his fathering an illegitimate child on any famous personage are regularly debated. The most likely, however, is that after the announcement by Godric Gryffindor that the school would now be admitting Muggle-borns, Salazar Slytherin left, severely disagreeing with his co-Founder.'"

"We know," Draco interrupted. "Get on with it."

I glared at him. "'The rumours are not limited to the reason for his departure. The most popular states that shortly prior to his departure, Slytherin created a hidden room in the castle, called the Chamber of Secrets. This chamber was locked in such a fashion that only he and his heirs would be able to open it. It is then said that a monster is imprisoned within the chamber, waiting for the heir to unleash it upon the castle. As popular as the story is, however, there has never been any evidence to support it.'"

Our area was silent. Draco, again, was the first to speak. "Apparently it is real."

Tracey, who I had never heard speak in anger, said, "We don't know. It could be a prank."

Shoving his hair out of his eyes, Draco glared at her. "Such a good prank it caught the Headmaster too? I don't think so."

She shrugged. "It's possible. And certainly more likely than the existence of a room that has been inconclusively searched for by the most powerful wizards of the last millennium."

We all blinked. Tracey was quiet and submissive and everything that a Gryffindor wasn't, yet here she was arguing with Draco.

Draco shook his head. "I'm sure now that it's open, there'll be more attacks. You'll get your proof."

"What we all want to know," Theo said, "is who opened it? Draco?"

There were nods as I looked around. Everyone thought it was Draco Malfoy, heir to a Lordship, a seat on the Wizengamot, and more manors than I wanted to think about, son of the richest man, wizard or otherwise, in Britain, and leader of the purebloods at Hogwarts in his own right.

Draco grimaced. "Not only was it not me, but I have no clue who did it. Father said he was planning something to do with Mudbloods, but he didn't say what."

I flinched, and then hoped nobody noticed.

Theo wrinkled his nose. "Then who did it?"

I kicked him. "There are other questions, you know." Theo raised an eyebrow. "Like where is the Chamber? What's in it? And why did it pick Mrs. Norris for its first victim?"

Tracy smiled slightly. "I can answer that last. Roger- my brother, who's in Ravenclaw- told me that Filch is a Squib." Silence followed this announcement, with understanding nods all around. It would make sense for Filch to be a Squib, with his general crankiness and anger towards the student body, all of whom could do more magic as first-years than he would ever be able to.

I shook my head. "I don't think we're going to get any farther tonight. We should wait for another attack. That should tell us what the monster is targeting, and how it attacks."

* * *

><p>If I seemed emotional over the next week, I put it down entirely to the chaos in the school and the words being flung around casually by my house-mates. It took me days to stop flinching whenever anyone said <em>Mudblood<em>; the only reason I was able to control it was fear of being found out. Classes were tense; our teachers didn't know what was going on any better than we did. The first Saturday in November, it all became too much.

I slipped away from the others after dinner. Last year, I would have dealt with this by going to Snape's classroom and hexing innocent furniture. But that avenue was closed to me. I was too proud to apologize, and too scared about what he might do to me if I tried to go back. It was easier just to stay away. So I needed a new room.

I had gotten the idea from the attack on Halloween. No one had paid any attention to Myrtle's bathroom then, and since there was always an Out-of-Order sign hanging just inside the door, it wouldn't be too difficult to ensure that no one would come in. Placing the sign on the outside of the door, I stepped into the grungy bathroom.

Myrtle didn't appear to be there, which was nice. I needed time to myself, time to think about all that had been going on. Most importantly, I needed time to cry.

Locking myself into a stall, I sat on the toilet, and let go. Sobs wracked my body as I accepted, for the first time, that everyone I currently called 'friend' would hate me if they knew my real story. I had heard the word Mudblood from all of them over the past week, but so far had avoided saying the word myself.

Tears running down my face, I heard a gasp. Someone said, "Who's there?" I recognized the voice, fortunately. It was Myrtle.

"It's Sarah Levine." My voice shook, and I had to tear off a piece of toilet paper to blow my nose.

"Oh?" Myrtle sounded shocked. "Come to mock me, have you? Come to mock moaning Myrtle?"

"No!" I shouted the word, trying to cut Myrtle off. She would go on for ages if given the chance, and I didn't feel like listening. "I'm here to cry, in case you care."

She swooped in, ignoring the locked door. "Oh," she said quieter. "Would you like to tell me?" Myrtle sounded positively nice now, which had to have been my ears playing tricks.

I looked at her, as stern as one can be with red-rimmed eyes. "Wizard's oath not to tell?"

She looked offended. "Of course not! I would never share secrets."

I rubbed my face with my hand in a vain effort to look presentable. "I'm muggle-born. And a Slytherin. So no one knows about my parents. And with everything," I waved a hand, "with everyone I know saying Mudblood and worse, I just-" I gave up on speaking. My head returned to my hands, and the tears started again.

"I'm sorry." She patted my shoulder. It felt like someone was rubbing dry ice over it. "I was teased too, you know."

I ignored her. The tears were flowing faster now, refusing to be held back any more. If they found out, if Draco knew… I was dead. Probably literally, if anything he'd said about his father was true. So many secrets, so many things I couldn't tell.

"Mrrow?"

I swore. If Mrs. Norris saw me… My brain reconnected to reality. Mrs. Norris was lying in Filch's office, Petrified. So that meant... I looked up. Grinning for the first time in days, I held out my hands. "Whisper!"

The Siamese leaped into my arms, purring. Stroking my cat, I felt myself relax. "Thank you," I told her.

Myrtle smiled. "Maybe you will have a better second year than I did."

"I doubt it," I told her, still petting Whisper. For some reason this made her happy. Though I couldn't say the same for myself, it was nice to have a room where I could come and not have any secrets.

* * *

><p>There comes a day in any girl's life when her mother should be present. Mine was not only absent, but had utterly failed in preparing me. In her defence, she had started at fifteen, and I was only twelve-and-a-half.<p>

This did not mean, however, that I had no clue what was going on when I got up and discovered that a not insignificant portion of my bed sheet was now red. Quite the contrary: I not only knew, but I was also severely displeased.

Sighing, I thanked every god I knew that it was almost time for breakfast anyways, and got Daphne up. She glared at me, and then asked what was going on.

"Um." People didn't talk about this, and I didn't know what words to use. "I- Well, I- I, um." My face turned bright red.

Daphne looked at my face, and then at my bed. Her confusion cleared. "Your period started," she said calmly.

I nodded frantically. "And, um, well, my mum didn't expect… Well, she started at-"

"That's alright. Millicent started over the summer and knows all the spells. She can teach you."

Millicent did know. Getting the larger girl up was difficult, but once awake, she understood the situation instantly. "There are three spells you need to learn. _Tergo_1, _nullam_2, and _mitigacio_3." She pulled out her wand, pointing it at my bed. "_Tergo_," she said calmly.

The spot on my bed shrank, as if the liquid was being suctioned into her wand. I copied her wand movement. "Like this?"

She nodded. "Then, to keep it from happening again, you point your wand here," she demonstrated.

I blushed.

"And say _nullam_."

Still beet red, I repeated her actions. Instantly it felt like there were cotton balls in my knickers. "Will this prevent…" Again I searched for a word. "Leakage?"

Millicent nodded. "The third spell, well… It shouldn't be necessary now, but if you have cramps, all you need to do is point your wand at your stomach and say _mitigacio_."

I nodded. "Thanks," I told my feet.

Someone giggled. "It's no problem," Millicent told me. "My mum told me before I left last year, jus' in case. No one cares who taught you the spells so long as there's no mess."

Despite this, I made sure to sit next to Millicent in class over the following week and help her with all her work. Even as I solidified my ties with the Slytherin girls, the school was panicking. Many of the students were convinced that Potter was the Heir, which I found amusing. Potter was no more the Heir of Slytherin than I was.

* * *

><p>All of this only made the first Quidditch match of the season more fun. Draco was now our Seeker, Flint having finally gotten rid of Terence, and his father had bought the team new broomsticks. Potter, meanwhile, was stressed, no doubt, and needed to get back at Slytherin. It would be an interesting game.<p>

The first thing that happened was a Bludger seemed to be magnetically attracted to Potter. The Weasley Twins spent all their time protecting Potter, allowing our team to score several times. After Wood called for a timeout, things went downhill. The Twins abandoned Potter, knocking our Chasers around and completely out flying our pathetic excuses for Beaters.

To cap the game off, Potter caught the Snitch where it had been hovering- next to Draco's ear. The only thing that made Draco bearable afterwards was the rogue Bludger smashing into Potter's arm, and Lockhart removing all of the bones in Potter's arm in a misguided attempt to be helpful.

Flint was upset. For almost an hour in the common room he yelled at Draco for not catching the Snitch. He only stopped because Snape came in and glared at us.

Our collective attention was diverted the next morning, when it became common news that Colin Creevy was lying in the hospital wing, petrified. The rumour mill practically exploded from excitement.

I ignored the rumours. Of more importance was the fact that two attacks had now occurred. I now had something to go on, and unlike everyone else in the school, I didn't care who had done it. I knew that the Heir of Slytherin didn't necessarily have to come from Slytherin, or even really be a pureblood; after all, there were prejudiced purebloods in other houses, and halfbloods in Slytherin.

I was far more focused on _what_ had done it. There were a limited number of creatures that could petrify, and far fewer that could do it strong enough to withstand the Headmaster. Thursday morning I went to Draco. "Hey, would you mind sending an owl to your father for me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I want to know if the Chamber has been opened before, and if so, what happened." I was blunt. There was no reason to hide, not this time.

Draco nodded. "Sure."

* * *

><p>The next morning his owl returned. We read the letter eagerly. "Dear Draco; Of course I am willing to help. The Chamber has been opened before, in the 1940s. A girl died, Myrtle I believe her name was. The culprit was caught and expelled; the attacks stopped afterwards and there have been none since. Now, on to lighter topics. I hear…"<p>

I stopped reading. I'd heard all I needed to. The creature could kill, it just hadn't been. That afternoon I went to the library to figure out why not. With a silent admonition to "begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop," I pulled out _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ The book was simple, straight-forward, and understandable by all but the dullest of four-year-olds, yet I needed it to focus my thoughts.

Thinking, I realized something. Neither Creevy nor Mrs. Norris had any evident wounds on them. That meant either sound, or sight. Some creatures used sound to attack, but none petrified. Panicked at my thoughts, I pulled out another book on magical creatures. And another. And another. They only confirmed my fears. There was only one creature, in any of the books I looked through, that could both petrify and kill.

The basilisk.

Things made sense as I put them together. Creevy hadn't seen the basilisk's eyes because of his camera. Mrs. Norris must have been looking at the water when the thing attacked. The giant snake, a symbol for Slytherin. Only two questions remained:

Where was the Chamber?

And what should I do?

**A/N: And some definitions for you. **

**1- **_**Tergo **_**comes from the books, where it functions as described**

**2- **_**Nullam**_** comes via Google Translate. It's supposed to mean "padding," but since I don't speak Latin, it could actually mean just about anything.**

**3- **_**Mitigacio**_** also came off of Google Translate, and means "calming." Or it should.**


	8. A Duel, an Heir, and a Word

**A/N: So… It's not that school has lain off… 'Cause it hasn't. It's more that I "created" time to work on this. You should be proud. This one's rather short(ish), but Chapter 9 will be longer (and probably won't show up until March. Just FYI). Some interesting things happen; nothing too major for Sarah. There are some scenes in here that won't be important for a while yet (a very, very long while), just be patient and they'll make sense eventually.**

**Fascinating thought: My visitor count jumped after I raised the rating. I'm now considering moving it to M, just because of all the new hits I'd get. (Maybe. Maybe not.)**

**Thanks to: MissVenusVixen (who seems to have become a regular; thanks very much for that!), RandomCitizen (unsigned review), MissVenusVixen again, and JojoSalas. Reviews help remind me that I should write at some point. **

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm:**_** Re-watched the last movie, and spent the last half thinking: Evidently the director/screenplay writer/etc. neither read nor understood the purpose of the Final Battle. Just a thought. The point is: STILL NOT MINE.**

* * *

><p>The shocking thing was, despite the fact that I now knew something that no one else in the school did, life continued on as normal. Or, as normal as things ever get at Hogwarts. A perfect example came in the second week of December.<p>

Potions began normally enough, and rapidly went downhill from there. We were supposed to be brewing a Swelling Solution, which was simple enough that we were set to work alone. I set up my base, and then went about chopping ingredients while it boiled. This was easy enough that I spent most of my time watching Snape, who was refusing to look at me.

We hadn't communicated since October. He had steadfastly ignored me through classes, mealtimes, and the rare house meeting. It was driving me crazy, but apologizing was unthinkable. Well, it had been, at the end of October, and it would just look stupid to apologize now.

Now he was bent over Longbottom's cauldron, berating him for _something_, but I was more preoccupied with Potter. The boy was standing now, with a firework in his hand.

I grinned. Whatever was about to happen was going to rile Snape, which meant it was going to be good.

The firework arched through the air and landed in Goyle's cauldron, fortunately far away from me. The potion exploded, spraying through the air. Prepared, I ducked, managing to miss the splatters. Others were not so fortunate, I saw as I looked up.

Draco had received a face-full of the potion and his nose was rapidly expanding. Goyle was worse, if possible. His eyes were the size of dinner plates, and his chin had been superseded by his lips.

Potter ducked down, grinning. I followed his line of sight to see Granger slip into Snape's office. I smirked, even as Snape scowled. "Silence! SILENCE!" he roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft— when I find out who did this—"

I pondered the benefits of telling him it was Potter. On the plus side he'd be pleased, which would be a first. On the minus, it would involve me talking to him. And it was so much more fun to watch him try to explode at everyone in sight.

Most of the class had to walk up to get deflated. When Snape was starting to pass out vials, I saw Granger walk back in, suspicious lumps bulging under her robes.

It took almost fifteen minutes to hand out the Draft to everyone. When he was finally done, Snape examined Goyle's cauldron, pulling out the remains of the firework.

"If I ever find out who threw this," he hissed at the classroom, "I shall _make sure_ that person is expelled."

Potter looked constipated. I assumed that he was trying to look puzzled, especially given that Snape was glaring at him.

The Trio left the room together, and I gave some thought to following them. Deciding against it, I went back to the common room to do homework.

* * *

><p>The next day, I was glad that I had not risked following them. I stopped off in Myrtle's bathroom to relax for a minute- let all my guards down- and discovered that one of the stalls was propped shut. This was very odd, as no one ever went in voluntarily. Except me. Pushing the door open, I saw a cauldron, with a library book sitting next to it. It was open to the page on Polyjuice potion.<p>

I grinned. So the Golden Trio couldn't figure out who the Heir was, could they? I pondered who they were planning to change into. Probably Slytherins, if they were at all clever. Most likely Crabbe and Goyle, since they would be the easiest to get a hold of, and the easiest to fake. I pondered if I should tell Draco to be careful what he told his minions for the next couple weeks. I decided against it, first for the entertainment value, and second because he actually didn't know anything, and so it wouldn't do any harm to not tell him.

Leaving the room I was in a much better mood.

* * *

><p>The good mood persisted for the next week, which was rare enough for me to take note. The joys of knowing things that no one else did, the excitement in keeping secrets, and the comfort of having a place to hide and relax in all combined to make me happy. This lasted even through the short-lived Duelling Club.<p>

All the Slytherins went, more for amusement value than out of hope that Lockhart would actually teach us anything. Despite the names of the tutors not being posted, we still knew that Snape and Lockhart were going to be the teachers. Snape had called an arbitrary house meeting the night before, where he announced not only that he and Lockhart were teaching a duelling club, but that he expected us to go, on the off chance that we might actually learn something.

I followed Draco up to the Great Hall that evening, smirking when I saw Lockhart. He was wearing purple robes, for some odd reason, and was trailed by Snape, who was glaring.

"Gather round, gather round!" Lockhart beamed at us. "Can everyone see me?"

Dear gods, yes. And I wished I couldn't.

"Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions—for full details, see my published works."

I rested my head in my hands. If he would just stop talking… No, that wouldn't help. If he would just go away… If Snape would just hex him from here to Nicaragua and back again, maybe I would be able to get through this. Maybe.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry—you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

Ironically enough, I was hoping for just the opposite. If Snape turned Lockhart into a purple smear on the wall, could he get away with accidental manslaughter?

Snape sneered at Lockhart, who somehow managed to smile back. They bowed to each other; Lockhart ornately, Snape with a slight nod of his head.

I tuned out Lockhart's comments, and watched Snape. He was totally focused on the other professor, moving in exact unison with him. When Lockhart called time, Snape slashed his wand down. "_Expelliarmus!_"

Scarlet light burst out of the tip to crash into Lockhart, throwing him backwards, and flinging his wand into the crowd. After a touch of confusion, Lockhart said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me—"

Snape looked as if he'd like nothing worse, but began pairing students up nonetheless. He swept past us on the way to a clump of Gryffindors. His gaze skidded over me to rest on Draco. The boy smirked at me. No one knew _why_ Snape and I were angry at each other, but the fact that we were had been the subject of much gossip.

We arranged ourselves into pairs. Draco and I, Blaise and Theo, and Crabbe and Goyle (unsurprisingly). Millicent and Daphne paired up, while Pansy and Tracey were on the other side of the Hall.

Our brilliant planning was upset by Snape's trouble making. He paired Draco and Potter, put Millicent with Granger, stuck Blaise with Abbott, who may have been nice, but certainly wasn't intelligent, and assigned me to work with Lavender Brown, a Gryffindork if I'd ever seen one.

I sneered at the girl. She wasn't holding her wand properly, and looked as if she'd much rather be re-applying her makeup than duelling. I tried to come up with a reason as to why she'd come here in the first place, but made no progress.

Lockhart was back on the platform again. "Face your partners! And bow!"

Brown bowed. I nodded my head.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents – only to disarm them – we don't want any accidents – one…two…three—"

I slashed my wand down with no intention of actually using a Disarming Charm. I'd perfected them last year, and wanted to experiment with something new. "_Densaugeo_."I smirked as the curse hit the girl, causing her teeth to grow.

She squealed and dropped her wand. Picking it up, I twirled it idly until Snape passed by. He looked at me, and then at Brown. Smiling slightly- if I didn't know him so well, I wouldn't have called it a smile- he turned to another group, pulling out a girl. "Patil," he commanded. "Take Miss Brown with you on your way to the Hospital Wing."

I stared, interested, at the other girl. She appeared to have mushrooms growing out of her arms. My eyes travelled across a short space to her opponent, identical in all ways but the mushrooms. It took me a moment to put the two together. They must be the Patil twins, Pavarti- Gryffindor- and Padma- Ravenclaw. I checked their House pins. Yep, Pavarti had mushrooms, and Padma was looking smug. I was impressed with the Ravenclaw for not only being able to hex someone, but for doing it to her sister.

Someone's hand grabbed Brown's wand as I twirled it. "Miss Levine," Snape breathed. "I think that Miss Brown will need her wand back."

I pouted at him, but handed the wand back to Brown, who shoved it into a pocket, while covering her rapidly growing fangs. The girls ran off to the Hospital Wing.

Snape proceeded on through the crowd, breaking up a fist-fight, a headlock, several miscast jinxes, and Draco's attempted cursing of Potter. I was growing more amused by the minute.

Lockhart began spouting off about demonstrating blocking spells- presumably the Shield Charm, although he really could be talking about anything. Things only got better when Snape convinced Lockhart that the examples should be Draco and Potter.

The two boys clambered onto the platform. While Lockhart appeared to be demonstrating an extremely bizarre Shield Charm to Potter, Snape was talking very fast and quiet to Draco. Leaving the platform, Snape smirked at the boy, apparently wishing him luck.

I watched Draco. Potter would obey the rules of duelling and be all good and magnanimous and all that, but Draco would show me how to get around the confines of the sport.

Or so I thought.

Draco threw that idea out the window by starting right on time, and- rather than casting the Disarming Charm- conjured a snake in front of Potter. The black serpentine body coiled on the floor, preparing to attack.

I was impressed. Not so much with Draco, who clearly had no idea what he'd just accomplished, but with Snape. Conjuring was taught in NEWT level Transfiguration, and it started with simple creatures, like snails. Snakes were considered complex. Draco had just conjured a snake after a three minute lesson. I was in the middle of figuring out how to get Snape to teach me, when my attention was drawn back to the platform.

The snake was closing in on Potter, who looked terrified.

"Don't move Potter," Snape said, smirking broadly. "I'll get rid of it…"

Lockhart dashed forward. "Allow me!" There was a loud bang. The snake flew into the air and came down facing a Hufflepuff I didn't know. Potter jerked, face paling, and began speaking. In something that definitely wasn't English.

I briefly thought that Potter was epileptic. He was twitching, and strange hissing noises were coming from his mouth. It was the snake's turn to jerk. Its head faced Potter briefly, before collapsing on the floor, now facing the Hufflepuff.

The room exploded into noise. Everyone was talking at once about Potter's actions. The Hufflepuff was glaring, and rapidly turning bright red. "What do you think you're playing at?" Still red, he stormed out of the room.

I moved over to Draco. "Who's that?"

"Finch-Fletchley. A Mudblood," he said dismissively. "But don't you think it's odd that Potter, of all people, is a Parselmouth?"

I shrugged, hesitant to admit that I didn't know something, but well aware that I could only slither my way out of so much. "Those are the people who can talk to snakes, right?" I settled on the middle path: Pretend you know something by asking about it.

Draco rolled his eyes at me. "And you call yourself a Slytherin?" It stung, but I knew he was joking. "Yes, Parselmouths can talk to snakes. It's really rare though. Like I said, it's odd that Potter, a half-blood-"

The way he spat the word reminded me of how much everyone would hate me if I told them the truth.

"-Would be able to speak Parseltongue," Draco finished, seemingly oblivious to my unease. "I mean-" He looked around. "Merlin, we shouldn't be talking about this here. Look, we can discuss it in the Common Room, okay?'

I nodded. Quite aside from the instinctive desire not to release information to the masses, I needed time to prepare myself. It wouldn't do to be flinching every time Draco said 'Mudblood,' especially since it was likely to come up during the conversation.

* * *

><p>Back in the Common Room, Draco was still uncomfortable about the number of people. He dragged me into his dorm room, kicked out Crabbe- I had no clue where Goyle was, and didn't care to know-, thought for a minute, and pulled in Blaise.<p>

"You both should hear this." Pale silver eyes flickered back and forth.

We nodded. For once, I had no idea where this was going.

Draco smoothed his hair nervously. "If Potter's a Parselmouth…" He trailed off and looked around the room again. "He's probably the Heir of Slytherin."

That was _not_ the comment I was expecting. For a moment all my emotions showed on my face. "Wait-" I frowned. "_Potter's_ the one killing Mug-Mudbloods?" I hoped they focused more on my incredulity, and less on my falter over the word.

Blaise snickered. "Right, 'cause that would make sense. Famous Potter offing Mudbloods, just like the Dark Lord offed his mum."

Deep breaths, Sarah. Stay calm. He's just being a complete and utter _prat_, there's no reason to blow up at him.

Draco shook his head. "I dunno. He defeated the Dark Lord, so that's got to mean something. But you could argue it either way. I think we should stay quiet for a while. See which way he falls."

Blaise nodded, instantly understanding. It took me a minute to get it. They had no clue whether Potter was the Heir or not, and so they weren't going to do anything in an attempt to come out on top. It was a good strategy. For them, at least.

I left them, using homework as an excuse.

* * *

><p>The next day, there was another attack. Finch-Fletchey was Petrified, and something odd had happened to Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor ghost. Rumours took over the school, including the ever popular "Potter couldn't kill Finch-Fletchey in front of everyone, so he had to Petrify him instead." Most people were going home for the holidays, including me; I didn't know why Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were staying and didn't bother to ask. We mostly left each other's home lives alone, which was nice for me.<p>

There were a few exceptions, notably Blaise. On the train home, we were alone in our compartment, and he began spouting off about his mum and her new husband. "Number six, I swear to you. The Ministry only has records for three, but I've been counting and there's been at least six guys passing through. Well, seven, if you count Arnold. But I don't ever, mostly on account of how he was only around for a week," Blaise snarled. "Why she can't just-" He evidently had no idea what his mum should just, as he threw his hands up in the air and stopped talking.

I looked at him. "Your mum's been married six times?" Blaise had mentioned his… odd… family before, but never in such detail.

He barked a laugh. "Granda was rich, but he left it all to m'uncle- Mum's brother," he explained. "Mum wasn't too happy with that, so she married Jean-Claude Dupont, from the continent. He was rich enough, which didn't work out too well for him. Dead within the year."

My eyebrows popped up. "How?" I asked, morbidly fascinated.

"Black widow, ironically enough."

I snickered. It did seem fitting.

Blaise grinned, pleased that I got the joke. "His will left everything to her, though. So that was how it started. She hasn't killed off all of them- or at least, I don't think she has. I know Patrin is still wandering around." He smiled. "I like him. He's a gypsy."

"So which one…" I hesitated, wondering how to ask my question. "Do you know who your father was? Is?"

Blaise suddenly looked serious. "No." He stared at his knees. "She won't tell me." There was something self-depreciating in his voice.

"Oh." I turned red. "It doesn't matter."

He rolled his eyes. "Some days I forget that you're from the States," he said scathingly.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"No pureblood raised in Britain would ever make that mistake. Here, it does matter who your father is. Primogeniture and all that. I don't even know his last name. Zabini's Mum's maiden name." He returned to staring fixedly at his knees.

I pulled out a deck of cards. "Sorry for bringing it up," I apologized. "Wanna play?"

* * *

><p>Arriving at the station, I had to slip away from Blaise. There was no way that I'd allow him to see my parents. My <em>Muggle<em> parents. The train from London to Chester was full of talking, sharing stories of the past months and our plans for the next few weeks. Miriam was coming over for Christmas, and we needed to decide what to tell her. All she knew at this point was that I'd been accepted into an exclusive boarding school, and that I loved it. She didn't know anything about witches and wizards, and I wasn't sure that it wasn't safer to leave her that way. Even if I didn't know who, there was still someone controlling the Basilisk.

After long discussions with my parents we finally decided not to tell her. Next year, maybe, when the current crisis was over. If there was someone targeting Muggle-borns, then the more people who could connect both of my lives, the more danger I was in. Despite the secrecy, Hanukkah went well. It was wonderful to see Miriam again, although a little awkward. She knew we weren't telling her everything, but there wasn't much she could do about that. It took a couple days for her to give up on finding out what I was doing- she was related to _me_, after all. Once that happened, though, we got along well. Miriam hadn't come over from the States with us; she visited when she could, but with a boyfriend and a job, that was hard. This was the first time I had seen her in three years, and it hurt to keep my magic from her.

On the last day of Hanukkah, Mum called me into her room. "Sarah, we got you this." She handed me a gift box.

I opened it with all the enthusiasm of any twelve-year-old. The first piece of paper renewed my subscription to the _Daily Prophet_. The second was rather different. "A trip?" My voice squeaked obnoxiously. "To Seattle?"

She nodded, obviously proud of herself. "Next summer. Miriam'll meet us there, and we're going to tour the city. And then-" She pointed at the bottom of the sheet.

"Unuse Alley?" I read aloud. "Is that like-" I stopped.

Mum was already nodding. "Yes. The wizarding street in Seattle."

I squealed and hugged her. Even Draco hadn't been to the States, but I hadn't been able to brag much, because I hadn't seen any wizarding parts, and that was all anyone cared about.

* * *

><p>The rest of the holiday went well. Miriam left just before New Years- that boyfriend thing again- and life was good. I told Mum everything. Alright, so nothing about the basilisk or the attacks at all, but all my worries about my blood status and what my so-called friends would do came pouring out. She was sympathetic and told me to wait: the longer the others knew me, the less of a problem it would be. Backlash- for the lies- she said shouldn't be a worry; if they were intelligent, they would understand why. All was well in my world- and then the doorbell rang.<p>

I looked across the table at my parents. We weren't expecting anyone. Mum got to the door first, absentmindedly telling Charlie to shut his mouth. I followed her down the stairs, pulling my wand out as I went, glad that the pockets in my jumper were large enough for it.

If the visitor was a Muggle, I would hide my wand, or pretend that it was a regular stick. The consequences of it being one of the Dark Lord's followers, or any other wizard really, and me not being prepared were disastrous. Thanks to Myrtle's abandoned bathroom, I could now produce a Shield Charm, which would help, but any long term survival plan depended on me being able to talk my way out of trouble.

I watched Mum flip the latch, and jiggle the handle until the door cooperated and swung open. In a few moments I could be dead, or lying on the floor in pain. Or- I cut off that train of thought. It was probably just a Muggle, come to sell us something or convert us to some bizarre branch of an odd religion that we had never heard of.

I was wrong.

It was McGonagall.

**A/N: Special reader challenge: Any guesses as to why McGonagall is here? Answer by reviewing (hint, hint!) and the winner gets… something. Virtual cookies. And virtual milk to go with them. Or maybe a cameo, if it's small enough. (Too big and you take over my plot. Which would be messy, and I don't have time for messy.)**


	9. April Fools!

April Fools!

Yes, I know, not a very tasteful joke. But I've been meaning to let you guys (and gals!) know what's going on for a while and kept procrastinating, and today seemed like a good idea to post a false chapter.

So… I haven't posted since the beginning of February. Several reasons for that: I had several uber-projects due in the middle of February. Then I finished the chapter and was all ready to post it on February 29… when I discovered that one of the school's computers had completely eaten the file. As in gone and not recoverable.

I really, REALLY dislike writing things twice. It's why I try so hard to get it right the first time. So this… technological difficulty… really removed my urge to work on Serpent's Tears.

And THEN, because that wasn't enough, I woke up on March 1st to a brand new plot-bunny. Not a baby bunny that you can shove in a corner and forget about for a few weeks, but a fully-grown monster bunny that abducted my muse. Evidently my muse is complicit in this, because when they returned, all I could write about was the new story.

I'm at a guesstimated 20,000 words now (it's all hand-written), done entirely during what little free time I have. This is extremely fast for me: the only other month I've ever written more than about 10,000 words was November. (And NaNoWriMo really shouldn't count.)

To conclude, Serpent's Tears is essentially on informal hiatus for now. With any luck, my muse should settle down and allow me to finish chapter 9 at some point in April, but if it doesn't cooperate, you're gonna have to wait until June. (May is… a very bad month for me) On the flip side, at some point, you may see a new fan-fiction up by me. Be warned, this one is very dark.

On to other topics: My review response from the last chapter was very… underwhelming. Was there something you didn't like in it? While I'm at it, windwalker28 is the winner of the challenge. No use looking at her review (Sorry, but she's just a bit [a big bit] off in her guess) to figure out what's going on. Windwalker28, message me for reward thingys. As she was the only one who replied (and honestly guys, you had 2 months to think of something) she won. So kudos to her.

And to occupy your brains for the next while: 5th year students take O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) while 7th year students take N.E. (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests). In order to get your Mastery in a subject you have to take a _, which stands for _.

Rules: Guess the animal correctly to win. If a tiebreaker is needed, then each letter correct is one point. If you're still tied, then it's timing. Receive a cameo in one of my fan-fics. The number of letters in each answer does not correspond to the number of underscores I typed. The answer is NOT canon, so don't bother looking. It will, however, eventually play into this fic, so it's not completely irrelevant. You cannot review more than once (well, you can, but I won't count the succeeding ones), so think about it for a while.

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><p>If you feel nice, you could go review my other chapters as well! I'm always open to advice. Sorry about the delaying in posting. Someday this will return to a regular schedule, but it's spring of my senior year and things are a little chaotic right now.<p> 


	10. A Visitor, a Cat, and a Dilemma

**A/N: Oh dear. Life attacked me, and I just managed to get away. Also Macs and baby plot bunnies. Regardless, here it is. This is the second time I've written this chapter, and… I think it actually got better. No one gets input on this, because I was the only one to read the first version. There will be one more chapter in 2****nd**** year, and then off to year three! I'm excited, because I'm now only a month and a half behind original schedule! **

**Thanks to: windwalker28 (message me for your cameo!), Lestri, DariaDoll, and iwright. Special thanks goes to NoaAlexandra, who was the driving force behind getting this chapter up at all. Hopefully I replied to everyone; I apologize if I didn't.**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm:**_** I don't have the energy to come up with something interesting, but yeah, not mine.**

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><p>It was McGonagall.<p>

Of all the people I'd been expecting- Snape maybe, or Lord Malfoy, come to curse my head off for corrupting his precious son- she was not one of them. My wand pointed steadily at her chest.

McGonagall scowled at me. "Put that away, girl. I'm not here to attack you."

I didn't lower my wand. "Why should I trust you?" My eyes flickered to Mum.

McGonagall understood. "I've known ever since I saw your name on the list. No need to worry that I'll blame you for lying to your friends."

Mum's expression was changing by the second. "Would you like to come in?" She made an awkward welcoming gesture.

McGonagall nodded.

As we tromped upstairs, I shoved my wand back in my jumper. McGonagall was remarkably unlikely to turn around and hex me senseless. Sitting down on the sofa, I noted ironically the similarities to Snape's visit.

There was a moment of awkward silence as we all stared at each other: me at McGonagall, McGonagall at Mum, and Mum at me. Dad broke the staring session by walking into the room, looking confused. "Sarah? Is this one of your teachers?"

McGonagall stood politely. "Mr Levine? I am the Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts."

Dad shook his head, smiling. "Pleased to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

Taking it, McGonagall nodded. "The same." Sitting again, she waited for Dad to join us on the couch before continuing. "Mr and Mrs Levine, I am afraid that I must ask for permission for your daughter to return to school early, today if possible."

Dad made a strangled noise. "What? Why?"

Mum nudged him. "Let the professor explain."

McGonagall glanced down. "A magical accident resulted in one of the other second year students receiving a month-long hospital stay. Given her grades, Miss Levine seemed like an excellent choice to tutor this student."

I looked at her, frowning. "Who? And why can't Granger do it?"

Mum glared at me, but I ignored her. McGonagall, with her studiously blank gaze, had just told me everything I needed to know.

"It's Granger," I said bluntly. "Granger majorly messed up somehow and landed herself in the hospital wing for a month."

McGonagall glared at me briefly before nodding. "Yes. I suspect that although Mr Potter and Mr Weasley will try to help her, they will not be able to tutor her at the same level that she is accustomed to."

Mum, nodding slowly, looked at me. "Do you want to go?"

I gave this some thought. On the bad side: it would mean more effort, would make Draco suspicious, would take time out of my day, and would complicate things. On the good side: McGonagall would think higher of me, I would have a chance to befriend Granger, and it would go a long way towards easing my guilt about being Muggleborn. "Yes." I met McGonagall's eyes unswervingly.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mum smiling. "Alright. You should go and pack then."

I beamed at her and dashed upstairs. I was mostly packed, and just had to throw in _Hogwarts, a History, _and _A Wizard of Earthsea._ Dragging Whisper from her new favourite perch on my pillow, I presented her with her crate, gaining myself a nice scratch down one arm for my efforts. Giving up, I tied the crate to the top of my trunk, and hauled the lot down the stairs.

Whisper, figuring out that she was about to not be involved with something, bolted down the stairs, almost knocking me down. By the time I got downstairs, she was happily ensconced on McGonagall's lap. "You have a gorgeous cat," she told me, smiling. "Are you ready to go?"

I nodded slowly. "Mum? Are you-" I wasn't mentally ready, hadn't prepped myself to spend another five months without my family, didn't think-

She came over and hugged me. "I am so proud of you," she whispered into my ear. "You are making such a mature decision."

I leaned into her. "Thank you. And good-bye." Turning to Dad, I smiled slightly.

He joined the hug. "I agree with Mum. Yes, it's sad that you leave now, but you're helping other students. And it's only two extra days."

There were tears leaking from my eyes. I was studiously ignoring them. McGonagall cleared her throat quietly. "Shall we go?"

I flushed red. "Sorry. Yeah."

We walked downstairs. "Grab my arm," McGonagall told me, depositing Whisper in her crate. "I am going to Apparate us to Hogwarts." She took half a step and spun on her heel.

The world blurred around us before flashing into black. It felt like I was being squeezed into a tube. My chest compressed and all the air whooshed out of me. When the world blurred back into existence, I was giggling from the pressure and lack of air. McGonagall glanced at me and sighed.

It took a minute to calm down and look up at the gates of Hogwarts. "So that was Apparation." I filed the memory away for future examination and reference.

McGonagall shook her head. "This is not the first time I have introduced a student to Apparation," she told me. "It is, however, the first time anyone has found the process _amusing_." She pulled out her wand and opened the gate.

I grinned, still euphoric. "Sorry Professor. I was just reminded of a roller-coaster."

She gave me an odd look. "A _what_?"

Oops. "It's a Muggle thing. We- they use it for amusement. It's kind of like a train, but it goes up and down really fast." I followed her through the gate.

"Oh." She probably still hadn't understood, but seemed inclined to leave it be. We walked in silence to the doors of Hogwarts, McGonagall levitating my bags, Whisper irate on the top. She began talking again as we climbed the stairs to the Hospital Wing. "Now I must warn you: Miss Granger has had a serious magical accident. Do not be surprised by anything you see."

Well _that _was helpful. How could I be anything but surprised if she wouldn't tell me what was wrong?

Swinging the doors open, she let my bags rest on the ground. Whisper yowled a complaint. Stupid cat, upset when she's moving and pissed when she's not.

I walked down the room, past Colin Creevy and Justin Finch-Fletchey lying ramrod straight, to the only bed with anyone in it not petrified, and felt like I'd fallen into a nightmare.

There was a cat there; a giant humanoid cat. Golden eyes glared at me, and I began to understand. "What the hell did you do to yourself, Granger?"

She hissed at me. McGonagall tsked. "Language, Miss Levine."

I ignored my anger. Just because it was perfectly rational to lose control after discovering that one of your acquaintances had, apparently overnight, turned into a giant cat, didn't mean that everyone was going to understand that. Especially McGonagall, who's bloodline probably went back fifty generations and not a Squib in the lot. Still suppressing my annoyance, I turned to the Professor. "M'am, my task is to assist Miss Granger with her homework, is it not?"

She raised an eyebrow at me. "It is." Her tone let me know that she was wondering _why_ I was asking.

"Well, then, Professor, why do I need to be here now? Why couldn't I just have come on the train with everyone else?"

There was a moment of awkward silence. Granger made some sort of annoyed hissing noise behind me. I ignored her. Finally McGonagall said, "Miss Granger is healthy enough to leave the Hospital Wing today. However, as we wish to reduce the number of students staring at her, she will remain here until her transformation has reversed itself. As such, you will be one of the only people Miss Granger has regular contact with, and we were hoping to introduce the two of you before classes resumed to reduce potential… clashes."

She wasn't nearly as good at Slytherin-speak as I was. I mentally translated: McGonagall was tired of inter-house clashes and had seized on this opportunity to force a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to cooperate.

"Now," McGonagall said briskly, "I will leave the two of you alone so that you may work things out." She smiled at Granger and left.

I stared at Granger for a moment, finally pulling over a chair and sitting down. "So." I wasn't in a mood to be eloquent.

The cat attempted to frown. I snickered. She hissed again. I shrugged. "It'll be hard to help you if you won't cooperate." There. I had shifted the blame to her for anything that went wrong.

There was silence again. "Why are you helping me?" Granger asked.

I didn't answer the question. "That's funny. Your voice hasn't changed at all."

"Thankfully," she snapped. "Everything else is."

I hadn't been aware that Granger could snark. "How 'bout a deal. We take turns asking questions. You don't have to answer, but if you don't, I get to ask another question."

She nodded slowly. It looked awkward coming from a cat. "Then answer mine."

Clever. For a Gryffindork. I took a moment to formulate an answer. "First, because McGonagall asked me to." Granger immediately opened her mouth to protest, but I continued talking. "Second, because contrary to what you think, I am not a bad person. I can help people with out an ulterior motive. Third, because if I help you now, then you'll owe me something." I smirked at the look on her face.

She blinked. "Those were… not what I'd expected."

I grinned out right, more baring my teeth than smiling nicely. "I delight in challenging other's expectations." The silence stretched on for a moment. "So, how do you think this is gonna work?" I bent down to grab a piece of parchment, but my messenger bag wasn't where I'd expected it to be. Sighing, I flipped open my trunk, rummaged through it, and pulled out quill and parchment.

Granger smiled. It looked odd on the cat's face. "Once a day is probably too much for you, but once a week would be too little for me." I nodded, surprised at her acute analysis of the situation. "Maybe Monday, Wednesday, Friday?"

I shook my head. "Too frequent and too hard to explain. Monday and Thursday, because those are when our team practices and no one's paying attention, and then all day Saturday so that we can have time to cover both lessons and homework and not just one or the other?"

That odd smile again. "Sounds great. But why don't you have to explain about being gone on Saturdays?"

To tell or not to tell, that is the question. Even without reading _Hamlet_, I knew how to mangle the quotes. Finally I made eye contact with her. "I've made a habit of being gone on the weekends. Sometimes I'm in the library, others I'm… elsewhere. Either way, no one really bothers keeping track of me on weekends."

She nodded. "Your turn."

Ah, yes. Gryffindorks. So willing to give up things they didn't actually have to. "Um. What are you going to tell Potter and Weasley?"

Suddenly she wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'll let them give me the homework, but I won't tell them anything that would lead them to you, if that's what you're asking."

That would work for me. All I needed was her assurance that nothing dangerous would get back to my dorm-mates. And she'd even nicely provided a way for her to get the homework with out my having to ask for it, which would surely attract attention. "Sounds good."

Granger thought for a moment. "Why don't you hate me like the other Slytherins?"

More things I hadn't expected. Great. Only two options: evasion or truth. Could I trust her? Maybe, but despite her promise not to tell anything to Potter and Weasley, I had no doubt that if she found out my blood status it would end up all over the school within a month. "Another question, please," I said quietly, no longer meeting her golden eyes.

She blinked. "Okay. Well, what's your favourite subject?"

At last! Something easy. "Potions," I answered firmly. "Although Defence Against the Dark Arts would be a close second if it wasn't for Lockhart." I spat the name out.

"What's wrong with him?" Heaven help me, she was genuinely confused.

I smirked at her. "Isn't it my turn to ask the question?" Some days, I loved being able to turn the tables on others. "Why do you like Lockhart?"

If she hadn't been a cat, Granger would almost certainly be blushing. "Another question," she whispered.

"Fine." I stared at her whiskers. "Why are you cat-shaped?"

She mumbled something I couldn't hear. I glared at her. She tried again. ""An accident with Polyjuice." It turned out that cats flattened their ears when embarrassed.

I grinned. "Whose cat? You weren't trying to turn into a cat, were you?" I had completely forgotten that it was her turn to ask.

Fortunately, so had Granger. "Bulstrode's," she snarled. "And no, of course not!"

I seemed to have hit a nerve. "So then what were you doing?"

She looked down and away. "Nothing," she mumbled to her kneecaps.

She was lying, that was evident, but I didn't want to push. Besides, I already suspected what the Golden Trio were up to. "Alright," I told her. "So I'll see you Monday after classes then."

Granger nodded. "Yeah. But watch out for Harry and Ron. They probably wouldn't be pleased to see you."

I didn't need advice from a Gryffindork, but I nodded anyway and left. Granger could potentially be too valuable to risk alienating this early.

I was ignoring- and worse yet, I _knew_ I was ignoring- the real reason I was doing this. Every time I lied, every time I told someone, or let them believe that I was pureblood, something inside me twitched. Helping Granger, a fellow Muggleborn, stay on top of the pack for no real reward went a long way towards easing that twitch.

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><p>Down in the Common Room, I found Draco lounging in front of the fire- my first real problem of the day. He heard me come in, and sat up, raising an eyebrow when he recognized me. "What are you doing here?"<p>

I dropped my trunk on the carpeted floor with a thud, and bent over to let Whisper out of her crate. "I had to come back early." In this case, more of the truth was a better idea.

Whisper took a moment to clean her paws before hissing at me and walking back inside her crate.

Draco frowned, rolling over again to lay on his stomach, facing the fire. "Why? I didn't think they made anyone come back early."

I shrugged, watching Whisper bat the door of her crate. "McGonagall decided she needed me." Just because I was going to tell him the truth didn't mean I had to make it easy for him. With a sense of foreboding, I saw Whisper succeed in locking her self in her crate again. Sure enough, she immediately started wailing her discomfort. Sighing, I let her out again, latching the door behind her. Yowling at me, she went off to investigate the fire.

Snorting, Draco said, "For what? McGonagall _never_ lets anyone break the rules. Except for precious Potter." He picked at the edge of the carpet where it met the hearth.

I flopped down beside him, shoving his hand away. "Granger got herself stuck in the Hospital Wing for a month, and McGonagall wants me to tutor her."

He went back to picking out the threads. "Why'd you agree?"

Typical Slytherin, going right to the heart of the matter. I rescued Whisper from the scary flames, and turned back to Draco. "I'm tired of fighting with her. Besides," I added, smirking, "no one ever said I had to give Granger the _right _answers." This wasn't a lie, but it certainly gave the wrong impression.

Draco nodded, smiling back at me, and the crisis was over.

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><p>Everyone else accepted our explanation, and with the start of classes, I found myself busier than ever. After supper, I would either head to the Hospital Wing or Myrtle's bathroom, depending on the day. I would remain there until curfew and then hurry back to the dorms. Homework was done during meals and after curfew. By the time I crawled into bed each night I was exhausted, yet I found my grades going up. Because I was taking notes for Granger and not just for me, I was being forced to learn the reasons behind concepts I had previously just understood on instinct. In addition, McGonagall had relaxed her standard and I was doing markedly better in Transfiguration.<p>

An excellent example of both these points came at the end of January, shortly before Granger was released from the Hospital Wing. Slytherins had double Transfiguration in the morning, followed by double Potions after lunch. I was having more and more fun in Transfiguration, and was the first person that day to successfully transfigure my tarantula into a teacup. Of course, I couldn't leave it at that. It took a couple more minutes, but I eventually managed to change the design on the teacup, and make move.

Bringing it up to show McGonagall, I smirked as she noticed the Jolly Rodger waving defiantly. "Did Professor Flitwick teach you how to enchant paintings?" she said, half amused, half exasperated.

I grinned wider. "No, professor. I read it in a book."

She shook her head at me. "If only my Gryffindors were half as willing to read as you… Regardless, that's ten points to Slytherin, and make sure to tell Professor Snape why. I'd rather not lose the House Cup because I felt kind hearted one day."

"And one day only, professor," I told her cheekily. Leaving my teacup on the desk, I captured a new tarantula. The spells for simple shields were taught in first year charms, to allow us to control the animals we would be transfiguring later on. I had modified mine to let me direct the animal- this time onto Blaise's desk.

He made a face at me, and continued waving his wand at his tarantula. Still smirking, I maneuvered my tarantula into attacking his. The now battling pair fell off his desk onto the floor. Swearing at me, Blaise levitated his tarantula back onto his desk, to continue the futile task of turning it into a teacup. Imitating him- but without transfiguring my spider- I repeated the process with Draco.

When class finally let out- only Draco had been able to imitate me, although his teacup was identical in colouring to his tarantula- I waltzed down to lunch, immensely pleased with my ability to avoid homework. McGonagall only assigned essays to those who could not complete the assigned classwork. Since I was always successful, I never had homework.

The Potions assignment was to independently brew a Hair-Raising potion, a none-too-difficult task made substantially harder by Snape's additional instructions: while the ingredient list was provided, the amounts were not, and we weren't to look at our books. Somewhat predictably, no one managed to successfully complete the potion, and Longbottom melted his third cauldron of the year. Our resultant assignment was to write an essay on the proper amounts of each ingredient and why that particular amount.

After supper, I perched on the end of Granger's bed, half completed essay in my hand. "When you do yours, make sure to put down four rat tails, not three."

She gave me an odd look. "What are you on about? The textbook says three."

"Yes, but its wrong. The potion'll work better with four, all added at the same time." I didn't care what the textbook said, I knew potions, and everything I'd learned in potions told me that I needed four rat tails.

Granger glared at me. "No, look." She opened her pristine copy of _Magical Draughts and Potions_, at which point I stopped paying attention. Anyone whose only potions textbook was in that good of condition after a year and a half of weekly lessons wasn't worth listening to. I owned two copies: one copiously written in, incorporating corrections, Snape's notes, ideas for new potions, and plans to take over the world, while the other had had it's spine carefully broken at the page for brewing the Draught of Living Death (misdirection was always useful) and was only used for when I actually needed the original directions.

I gave the page a brief glance. "And? It's just a book."

Apparently I had just killed a puppy. Or crushed her brief and fledgling dreams of befriending me. The look was the same either way. "No. It's _just _our potions textbook, written by someone with way more experience in brewing than us. The book's right. You're wrong."

Unfortunately for her, I had some idea of how reliance on authority frequently didn't work, and said, "Just because someone with a fancy title wrote it down doesn't make it right. I mean, look at Piltdown man."

She acknowledged this point briefly, before returning to the main topic. "Yes, but this is _magic_, not _science_. If the potion wasn't exactly right it'd blow up. That's what Professor Snape taught us. And since they wouldn't publish a book with a faulty potion in it, it must be right." Still partly cat, she looked smugly at me, whiskers twitching.

Ignoring her first point- the scientific method can be applied to more subjects than just science, thank-you-very-much – I thought about the second part of her statement: Granger had, far from convincing me, managed to get me to entirely disregard her statements. True, many of the potions we'd been working on only had one functional form, but all of the theoretical potions books I'd read had indicated that advanced potions all had multiple forms, each with it's own advantages and disadvantages. It would be just like Snape to assign us a potion utilizing techniques that we hadn't learned in class yet. If she hadn't read enough to know that, then everything else she said was useless.

Sighing, I shook my head. "Then we will agree to disagree. See you Saturday."

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><p>Of course there was one remaining problem: the basilisk. I had taken to carrying a mirror in my bag and a Reflection Charm was always at the ready. The giant snake lurked in the back of my mind all through January, as I tutored Hermione and wondered whether to tell her or not, through February, while Hermione and I met in the library, helping each other with homework and sharing mutual complaints about the boys in our classes, all of March and April and the first week of May. I still thought about the potential danger of having a giant evil snake wandering around the school, but the longer it went without an attack, the less I worried. Whoever had been letting the snake out wasn't anymore, and it shouldn't be a problem.<p>

Yeah, right.

Again, I was lying to myself and tenaciously ignoring it. Part of the problem was that I still viewed the basilisk as a training exercise. It had been almost as easy to figure out as the Philosopher's Stone, and a large chunk of my brain insisted that they were the same thing. But while last year, I had been able to go to Snape with my suspicious, this year I was still unwilling to apologize. It would be awkward, to go up to him after over six months and say 'Hey, just forget about our major spat, because I think there's a giant snake wandering around the castle but I don't have any proof.' That would go over well. Not.

So, for weeks I had said nothing. The only thing out of place was that last year's 'training exercise' had not injured –or even come close to injuring –anyone but the Golden Trio. This year we had already had three separate attacks. There was always the possibility that as the years went on the exercises would escalate, but either way the Golden Trio didn't seem to be making much progress. Maybe I should drop a heavy hint on Granger?

Which hadn't stopped me delaying. I spent every evening in the library with Granger. My housemates accepted that I was being more Ravenclaw than ever; only Granger knew that we were slowly becoming friends, helped by our mutual love of learning, hindered by mutual distrust.

Okay, so maybe it took me four months to make a decision, but I finally made it. Arriving in the library early on the morning of the last Quidditch match of the year, I cleaned off our normal table. I knew two things: first, that Potter was playing and that therefore Granger would be spending the afternoon at the Quidditch pitch, and second, that although the first thing was true, she would be spending the morning in the library. Because she was Granger. Going into the stacks, I grabbed a bestiary and placed it on the table, open to "Banshee – Blood-sucking Bugbear." I couldn't afford to mark "Basilisk" specifically: Madam Pince actually liked me, and I didn't want to risk that. Speaking of the librarian, I went over to tell her that I was leaving the book out for a reason, and Granger would put it away when she was done.

Going down to the Quidditch pitch with Draco –whinging in my ear about Potter –I kept an eye out for Granger. She had to be around here somewhere. Scanning the Gryffindor stands, I couldn't find her. I stressed about this until the two teams circled up to begin the game. Then I focused on Potter and Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker.

Just as Hooch was bringing out the trunk with the game balls, McGonagall entered the field, giant megaphone in hand. There had been another attack, evidently, as she sent us back to our dorms. And it had to involve Granger, because she called over both Potter and Weasley.

Once back in the dorms, I heard the news: A Ravenclaw prefect- not that I cared- and Granger. Both petrified, found near the library. My heart all but stopped. Slipping out while Ashley and the other prefects weren't paying attention, I went to Myrtle's bathroom to think. Granger hadn't had time to tell Potter and Weasley if she'd been found near the library, so I had to figure out a way to get the information to them. And then there was the guilt: If I hadn't left the book out, she wouldn't have remained in the library that long and wouldn't have been petrified. Except, as a little snarky voice pointed out, that if I hadn't left the book, then Granger might be dead, and Clearwater almost certainly would be. Right. Because that line of reasoning cleared the moral dilemma right up.

I snuck back to the common room. I needed a way to get the news to Potter and Weasley. Sleep that night came uneasily, and I needed to coax Whisper into curling up on my bed before I could relax.

The next morning, all anyone could talk about was the new attacks and the new security. Teachers were now required to escort students to and from classes, and no one was allowed to go off alone. Which made everything more complicated.

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><p><strong>AN: Whee! Challenges: windwalker28, you got a cameo for being the ONLY person to respond to the first one (because my rules were vaguely worded), so message me about it. Alas, no one (who reviewed) got the second one right: **

5th year students take O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) while 7th year students take N.E. (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests). In order to get your Mastery in a subject you have to take a **S.N.A.K.E**, which stands for **Sadistically Notoriously Awful Knowledge Examination**.

**New challenge: Sarah's off to do something so that Harry and Ron figure out about the basilisk. What is it?**

**Same rules as before because I don't feel like typing them out again.**

**Read and review, guys!**


	11. A Book, an Attack, and a Talk

**A/N: Oh. My. God. Today I graduate from high school, which is just a little bit exciting. Then tomorrow, 5 proof copies of my NaNoNovel come, and a week from Saturday I leave for a two-week safari. It's a bit hard to **_**think**_** right now. **

**Anyways, here's Chapter 10. There's a lot in here. It's also **_**huge**_**: 5300 words without either A/N. Don't expect them all to be this big, although I do hope to get the next chapter up before I leave.**

**Thanks to: dramaqueen1917, bAkablAckcAt, windwalker28, Feanathiel, iwright, Azzara, Lestri, and Noa Alexandra (albeit anonymously). Wow. 8 reviews. So happy!**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm**_**: J. K. Rowling has a much better British accent than I do. Seriously. Or would that be Siriusly?**

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><p>Three quarters of the way through my second year, and this was the first time I'd snuck out of bed. The Weasley Twins would be disappointed in me, I thought absently. If they even knew my name.<p>

I'd 'been asleep' when the other girls had arrived in the dorm room, and had been working on a convincing snore by the time Pansy finally dropped off. Then I waited another agonizing fifteen minutes, finally leaving for the common room. The group of seventh years crouched around something that smelled suspiciously like Firewhisky I evaded with a smirk and a mutter of 'Gryffindors.' They smirked back and told me not to get caught.

Which led to me sneaking through the school after curfew, headed first to the library and then for the hospital wing. I couldn't even count the number of school rules I was breaking. I had a plan: lift the bestiary from the library, and slip it next to Granger with the correct page marked. Nice and simple, which made it easy. And if I got caught… Well, on the way to the library, or back from the hospital wing, it would be easy. I sleepwalk occasionally, or I left my homework in the library – actually the second would work for from library to hospital – and I'd gotten turned around in the dark and was headed for the nearest landmark. Yes, that would work, especially given that all the teachers knew of my learning obsession, and this would not be entirely out of character for me.

I slipped across the entryway, more worried about teachers than the basilisk, oddly enough. All of the attacks had been during the day, and since the Heir –whoever they were – was probably a student, I should be safe now. Unless it was Lockhart. I pondered that on the way up to the library. He could be another like Quirrel – an idiot, but faking it, to get away with doing stuff.

Still chewing over the possibility of Lockhart being the Heir, I snuck into the library and immediately encountered a problem. Madam Pince spelled the books so that they could only leave the library if they had been properly checked out. By her. And she was in bed. I wandered over to our table – well, mine now that Granger was… incapacitated – idly flipping the bestiary open and shut. Why the hell had I not thought of this before? Damn it all, I was supposed to be smarter than this.

Chewing on my lip, I flipped to the correct page, staring blankly at the elaborate diagram of a basilisk. Based on the detail, I suspected it was a fake. Returning to the problem at hand, I groaned softly. There had to be something I could do. Potter and the Weasel wouldn't believe me if I told them there was a basilisk wandering around; no more would any of the teachers. So I had to get the information to Granger somehow, and hope like blazes that the other two thirds of the Golden Trio found it.

Did the books have anti-damage spells on them? I thought not, especially not given the number of times I'd spilled rashers on my book at breakfast. Experimentally, I reached out and tore a piece off of the bestiary. Proud, I held the piece in my fingers before a burst of pain rushed up my hand, and I dropped it, swearing rather loudly. Never mind. Evidently the anti-damage spells were targeted at permanent harm and not at pieces of sausage.

Well, plan C then. Except I didn't have a plan C. At least not yet. Glancing around the library to make sure no one had heard me, I shoved my hands deep in my pajama pockets, and encountered something hard. My wand, fortunately enough, which I had kept on me. And a spare piece of parchment… Suddenly I had a plan C.

Drawing my wand, I placed the parchment on the table, next to the open bestiary. "_Geminio_." It was a fifth year Charm, which explained why I had been practicing it on ants in Myrtle's bathroom. It didn't last long on living animals, but since I wasn't actually _creating_ anything, and I was casting it on inanimate objects, it should be mostly permanent. I hoped.

So far it was working: there were now two copies of the _basilisk_ entry, one still in the book, and one on a loose, badly torn, sheet of parchment. Perfect. All that was left to do was sneak it into Granger's hands, and I would be good.

Closing the book behind me, I left the library, something still nagging at my mind. Potter was an idiot –_ no, _the unbiased portion of my mind told me, _he just has a tendency to be blind. He's perfectly smart; haven't you watched him in Defense?_ Regardless, I still couldn't count on him seeing the obvious.

Sighing, I returned to the library. There had to be a quill around here somewhere. Finding one, and praying to every deity I could think of that it still had ink, I scrawled on the bottom of the paper, '_It's in the pipes.'_

Or, more accurately, since the quill only decided to work on the last word, I scrawled, _'pipes.'_

Swearing alternately at the quill, the parchment, myself, Potter, Granger, and anyone else I could think of, I dropped the offending instrument and gave up. Potter would just have to put together on his own that a basilisk was too bloody big to wander the halls unnoticed and that, obviously, it would then have to be in the plumbing. Stomping off towards the hospital wing, I made no attempt at concealment. Fortunately, there was no one else out at the moment.

I reached the hospital wing as the clocks struck one, exhausted, upset, and fed up with the whole process. At that point, I was ready to feed Potter to the basilisk myself for being an idiot. To my great displeasure, the hospital wing was locked. Swearing at it yet _again_ – honestly, I usually wasn't this foul-mouthed – I drew my wand. I wasn't a witch for nothing. "_Alohomora_."

The door swung open. I grinned. _Finally, _something was going right. I crept into the hospital itself, crumpled up the parchment, shoved it into Granger's hand, and crept back out, closing – and locking! – the door behind me.

Sneaking back to the dorm was relatively easy after all that. The seventh years were now mostly unconscious in front of the fire, although one was still cognizant enough to mumble at me, "You get those Gryff bastards?"

I nodded. "Yep. Got them _good_."

"Good," he muttered, collapsing against a chair.

Grinning – I would _never_ be that stupid when I was a seventh year – I returned to my dorm for a well-deserved rest.

* * *

><p>The next morning I was alternately exhausted at the lack of sleep and exuberant at my success. As was everyone else, and it didn't take me long to figure out why. Apparently the night before – while I had been sneaking around the castle – Hagrid had been arrested, and Dumbledore stripped of his position. Draco, among others, was practically bouncing. None of this made any sense to my sleep-fogged brain, and in a moment of extreme stupidity, I pointed this out to Draco.<p>

"Look, even if it _was_ Hagrid the first time, you've got no evidence that it was him _this_ time. Besides, there've been no attacks for _fifty _years. Wouldn't that point to someone who's just returned?" God help us, now I was convincing _myself_ that it was Lockhart.

Draco gaped at me. "_Sarah_," he whined. "My fa – the Minister wouldn't have arrested Hagrid without proof."

I wasted a brief moment trying to figure out if Draco actually believed the nonsense he was spewing, before moving on. "And _honestly!_ Why would taking out Dumbledore make any difference? _He's_ not the one behind the attacks, and if he can't stop them, who can?"

There was an ugly silence. "You're missing the point. If we just threw out all the mudbloods," he snarled, "we wouldn't have this problem. The monster won't attack _proper_ wizards. And witches," he added, as an afterthought.

I felt the tears burning at the edges of my eyes. With two sentences he had destroyed our blossoming friendship – and I couldn't let him know. Searching for a reason to change his mind, I stammered, "But they're just children! To – to _kill _them – to let them _be_ killed, Draco, it's –"

He cut me off, glaring at me. "Sarah, do you have feelings for them? They're just creatures, after all."

For a moment I couldn't speak. I couldn't belief that he had said that – about _me_. The words clogged my throat, and the tears finally spilled over.

Draco paused, finally _seeing _me. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head. "'S just my monthlies. I jus' need a minute."

He turned a flaming red. "Oh. Well, um, I'll leave you be, then?" Draco backed off slowly, as if afraid that I'd explode.

Curling into myself, I let the tears fall. It was so typically Draco to be sympathetic to me without understanding how badly he'd hurt me to begin with. His words – and the assumptions behind them – stung and tore, leaving me bleeding inside. I wanted to die.

* * *

><p>That was the worst incident. After that, I began building shields, walls of defense, much like Snape had, to protect me against the insults casually thrown around. Before I had been able to ignore them, had been able to suppress it, and only let it out in Myrtle's bathroom. Now I shut it down completely, convinced myself that I didn't care that all my friends hated who I was.<p>

It helped that much of the day was spent traipsing back and forth between the common room, the great hall, and various classrooms escorted by teachers of various temperaments. While McGonagall was reasonably normal – i.e. snappish and acerbic, but never out of control – the other teachers reacted in a variety of ways. Snape took points for things like 'smiling,' and 'talking loudly,' while Lockhart babbled on about how it was his testimony that lead to the arrest of Hagrid. I ignored them both, but did spend a profitable five minutes on the way from Charms to Herbology talking with Professor Flitwick about duplication charms and their permanence.

Weeks passed in some semblance of calm. There were no more attacks, although now that there were four muggleborns, a cat, and a ghost damaged, this didn't make any difference to the general feeling around the school. The vast majority of the population was depressed and silent, while Draco and select other Slytherins bounced around as if Christmas had come twice. He didn't stop making comments, although he did seem to recognize that the Americans didn't have quite the same prejudice that he did, and it might be best to keep it down around me. Exams were announced, to the dismay of most of the other students, who had stopped studying.

Things changed drastically on the 29th of May. McGonagall, who had taken up temporary Headmistress duties in addition to everything else, announced at breakfast that the Mandrakes were ready to be cut, and that the victims would be revived that night. I saw the problem at once: Granger hadn't taken the piece of paper herself, and would have no idea what it was doing in her hand. So I would have to sneak it back out, a problem made vastly more difficult by the increased security.

I fretted about this through two classes, before all my stress was trebled by a school-wide announcement to return to our dormitories. There had been another attack.

* * *

><p>It took until after supper before Snape came in. "Prefects, would you <em>please<em> collect the younger students. Everyone needs to be here." He looked – and sounded – at the end of his rope. Moving jerkily, he stood in front of the fireplace, silhouetted by the flames.

The older students scattered to the dorm rooms, as I sat, comfortably ensconced, in a settee by the fire. Draco came in shortly, trailed by Theo and Blaise. "Budge up," he told me.

I gave him a quick glare, but moved, allowing the others to join me.

"Is everyone here?" Snape said quietly. There were scattered nods around the room. "Very well. As you may have heard," he said dryly, "there has been another attack. This time, however, the targeted victim has vanished, presumably into the Chamber itself."

There was an outburst of muttering around the room. Draco shifted uneasily next to me. "Who was it?" The question silenced the room.

Snape scanned the room rapidly. "Ginny Weasley."

I flinched in shock as the room exploded into speech, everyone trying to talk at once. Draco yet again caught my attention. "Damned blood traitor. She deserved it." This, of course sparked louder commenting. My pretended interest in what others were saying covered up my terror. The basilisk had attacked a pureblood. What if it went for me next?

Snape tensed infinitesimally. "Silence," he hissed. "Now is not the time. With the death of a student, the school will need to be closed until such time as the monster is killed. The train will return all of you to London tomorrow. Those of you with parents should prepare a letter to send to them alerting them to your impending arrival. Those of you without will have to talk to me." He scanned the room again. "I expect that I do not have to remind many of you of this; _however_, all of you should bear in mind that this is a tragedy, regardless of your opinions of the students in question. At the very least, _pretend_ to be upset." He gave us all one last glare before sweeping over to the door.

My brain kicked into gear, and I went straight from petrified to panicked. Leaping out of the chair – Draco gave me an odd look – I said, "Professor! Can I have a word?"

Turning to look at me, Snape curled his lip. "Miss Levine, I was under the impression that both of your parents were alive and well. What could you _possibly_ need?" He was particularly snappish, a mood I had only yet seen applied to the Gryffindors.

"Sir, if I could speak to you in private…" I shifted weight, doing everything I could to give off an impression of anxiety. It wasn't hard; in reality, I was trying to suppress my terror.

He glared at me. "Very well. Follow me." Robes swirling, he exited the common room as I followed. "Stand back," Snape said quietly. He drew his wand, and, in rapid succession, cast two warding spells I recognized from my reading, followed by at least four I did not, before throwing a Notice-Me-Not Charm over the blank stretch of wall.

Replacing his wand in his robes, Snape gave me a stare. "We will proceed to my office now." He strode down the corridor to the Potions room, holding the door open for me with a twisted smile on his face. It slammed shut behind him. "I trust you remember where the door is," he sneered.

I favoured him with an equally twisted smile, before leading the way to his office. This time I held the door open for him. Ignoring me, Snape strode in, sitting behind his desk. A rickety wooden chair appeared for me to sit in. I closed the door before sitting down.

"Now. What extraordinarily private confidence did you have to share with me?" I re-evaluated my impression of Snape's mood: he wasn't in a bad mood. He was in a rotten one, and looked ready to curse me.

I shifted on the chair, which squeaked unpleasantly. "Um… Sir…" The words wouldn't come. How did you tell someone that by your silence you killed a girl? My brain stopped. It was the first time I'd acknowledged what had happened: Ginny Weasley was almost certainly dead, and I had the knowledge that could have saved her.

His lip curled again. "Miss Levine, I do not have time for this. Either you have something to tell me, or you do not. Which one is it?"

My eyes flickered down, sideways, up again; anything to avoid Snape's piercing black ones. "I know what's in the Chamber of Secrets, sir," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Snape leaned forward, suddenly intent. He had gone from distracted and angry to focused and angry; I thought I preferred the former emotion. "You know what the monster is." It was not a question.

"Um… Yes, sir. At least, I think so." My consciousness was running in tiny circles like a hamster on its wheel, not at all conducive to a conversation with Snape.

"Quit delaying, Miss Levine!" he snapped. "What is in the Chamber?" It was the angriest I'd seen him since he'd blown up at me during October.

I looked down again. "A basilisk."

He froze; I heard his breathing stop for a second. "And how did you discover this fascinating piece of knowledge?"

Still examining my knees, I said quietly, "A book. Michael Hornby's _On Dark Lands and Darker Creatures_." Well, even if I managed to escape punishment for hiding the information for six months, that piece of knowledge would clinch it.

Snape frowned slowly. "Miss Levine, all of Hornby's work is in the Restricted Section for a very good reason."

"Yes, sir," I muttered. Why yes, there was a _very_ good reason; that book had given me nightmares for a week after reading it.

There was another nasty pause. "And what were you doing in the Restricted Section? I presume that you had permission from another teacher."

I nodded slowly. Snape raised an expectant eyebrow. "From Professor Sprout, sir. I was initially looking up the original breeding of the Venomous Tentacula. But then I saw some of his other notes, and I couldn't stop reading…" He had written about so many things I couldn't find elsewhere, and it might be _years_ before I got back into the Restricted Section. And besides, it was a book I hadn't read.

Snape gave me a look. "I believe I remember the relevant passage. He encountered a young basilisk and its Parslemouth handler, who told him that the snake was not fatal so long as one looked at it though a mirror."

Enthusiastically I nodded, back on firmer moral ground. "Yes, and I realized that all of the attacks have occurred around reflective surfaces. Mrs Norris saw it in the water, Creevey through his camera, Finch-Fletchley through Nearly-Headless Nick, and Granger and Clearwater in the mirror."

There was yet another long pause. "And for how long, Miss Levine, have you had this information?" he asked icily.

He caught my eyes, and I couldn't look away. I had the uncomfortable feeling that if I lied he would know about it. Shifting again, I said quietly, "Six months." It was still sinking in: She was dead, and it was my fault. She was _dead_ and it was _my_ fault. _She _was dead, and _it_ was my fault.

Snape cut off my internal panic by standing up. "You have known since the beginning of _December_?" He wasn't yelling, although it would have been easier if he was, he was just… very, very upset. And making that very, very clear.

I winced and nodded.

Still holding my eyes, Snape slammed the desk with the flat of his hand. "_Merlin_, girl, why didn't you tell anyone? If not me –" only someone very observant could have caught the flash of pain in his eyes; I did, and flinched again, this time at the hurt I was causing him – "then why not one of the other teachers? Merlin!" he yelled again. It was the angriest I'd ever seen him.

Returning to examining my knees, I whispered, "I didn't think they'd believe me."

He sat back down, sighing. "You may be correct about that. Regardless, you should have come to me, or to Professor McGonagall."

I was crying, I realized. I couldn't remember when that had happened. "I know, but – but you were mad at me, and I didn't want to apologize, and McGonagall wouldn't believe me, and I thought it was a test!" I gave up on trying to make sense, and simply cried. The tears were wet as they flowed down my cheeks. I _hated_ how I looked when I cried: my eyes and nose were red, my face was awkwardly only partly wet, and there was snot on my upper lip.

"Merlin," Snape said again. He didn't seem to want to try any other expletives, probably for fear of what would come out. "Here." He pressed a kerchief into my hand.

I wiped my face before loudly blowing my nose.

It was Snape's turn to shift in his chair. "Miss Levine, what on _earth_ did you mean when you said that you 'thought it was a test'?"

There was a moment as I tried to trace the conversation back to where I apparently had lost it. "Um… Last year, the whole thing was a test. And I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, because it was _Potter's_ test, and he was supposed to figure it out. An' so this year, I thought it was another test, just a more dangerous one, on account of how he was older and all."

"Bloody _hell_!" Face twisted into a dark scowl, Snape stood again. Striding restlessly out from behind his desk, he drew his wand. "Come here."

I stood slowly, not entirely sure what was about to happen, and edged over to him. Rubbing my nose with my sleeve, I sniffed, the tears flowing again. Despite my misgivings, Snape tapped his wand against my head and backed away again. I felt something cold and wet trickling down my scalp.

"That is a Disillusionment Charm, Miss Levine. You are effectively invisible; if you ask politely, I may explain further at some more practical date. For now, we need to go speak with the Headmaster." The growling tone in his voice, which grew more prevalent as his speech went onward, suggested that Snape was angry more at the Headmaster than at me, something that did a great deal to calm me down. "I will remain visible, as no one will take umbrage at _my_ being out in the corridors after hours."

I nodded, then realized that he couldn't see me. "Yes, sir." I was starting to put several things together: Snape needed to blame someone, and that was why he had blown up at me, but my last statement had told him that Dumbledore was to blame. Whether for the basilisk itself, or for giving me a false impression, I wasn't sure, but I almost felt sorry for the Headmaster. Snape was _scary_ when angered.

Snape quirked his lips in what might have been a smile if he wasn't still giving off strong waves of anger, and led the way out the door. All the way up – two flights of stairs from the Potions classroom to the entrance hall, followed by another two to the Headmaster's office, _cunningly_ hidden behind a beyond-ugly gargoyle. Snape removed the charm from me, which produced the feeling of hot liquid running _up _my neck, before turning and saying distastefully, "Lemon drop."

I was only confused for a minute, as the gargoyle jumped to the side, and the wall opened up behind it. Through the opening was a staircase that was constantly moving upwards. Snape led the way up, stopping at last before an oak door with a griffin-headed knocker.

I raised an eyebrow, having now returned to my normal state of emotional suppression. "Is the griffin at all related to Gryffindor?"

Quirking his lips again, Snape said, "Possibly. I have never found it relevant to ask." He knocked briskly on the door, ignoring the knocker.

I watched eagerly as the door swung open, revealing one of the most fascinating rooms I'd ever seen. It was circular and large, with bookcases, and odd silver instruments, and picture frames, all placed in some sort of internal order that somehow still managed to give the impression of chaos.

In the centre was a large desk, behind which Dumbledore sat, stroking a large, fiery coloured bird. He looked up at our entrance, seeming a lot older than he had at breakfast that morning. "Severus? I was not expecting you." He trailed off, apparently very tired, before perking up again at the sight of me. "Ah, and student. What is the problem tonight?" he said, all genial cordiality. I strongly suspected he was faking it.

Snape nodded his head in something that looked like an abbreviated bow. "Yes, Headmaster. This is Sarah Levine, a second-year in my house. She has something that you may be interested in hearing." To me, "Miss Levine, please tell him the same that you told me. _Without_ the crying, preferably."

I winced and took a deep breath. "Sir, at the beginning of December, I received permission from Professor Sprout to check out Michael Hornby's _On Dark Lands and Darker Creatures_," I paused for recognition.

Dumbledore nodded. "I know the work. Please continue."

"And as I was reading it, I was interested by his information on basilisks –"

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "I had not thought of that approach. That makes things… difficult." He frowned, standing. Drawing his wand, he moved over and began tapping one of the silver instruments.

Snape growled deep in his throat. "Headmaster, as fascinating as the information is, Miss Levine has more to tell you."

Turning, the Headmaster nodded to me. "My apologies, Miss Levine. Please continue."

I blushed. "Um. I've suspected the monster's a basilisk since the beginning of December… And really, I've _known_ since Christmas… But I didn't tell anyone. I thought…" My throat closed up. There were too many emotions rioting in my head. Fear, grief, guilt, some panic, some anger, gloating, anxiety…

"Headmaster, she thought that the situation with the Chamber is another test for the boy like last year's was," Snape put in.

Dumbledore actually looked shocked. Whatever he'd been expecting, that wasn't it. "I – but I would _never_ put a student in danger –"

Snape looked furious. "Look at it from her perspective, Headmaster. She's only a second-year; first the Philosopher's Stone, and now this! What was she supposed to think?"

Returning to his chair slowly, Dumbledore sighed. "Then I must apologize again, Miss Levine. Nothing about the unusual events this year was planned. Although, I can understand how you would think that…" Frowning again, white brows drawn in over that infamous crooked nose, he turned to another silver devise that he tapped with his wand. This one produced a diagram in the air made of glowing white lines.

I frowned, recognizing it as Hogwarts. Within the larger white lines were small, variously coloured, moving dots, each with a label over that. "Are those –"

"Staff and students," Dumbledore put in. "There should be one missing – Miss Weasley. But now there are…" He tapped the diagram with his wand. Four dots appeared above it – three red, and one purple. "Four."

I had to smile. I _liked_ riddles. "Ginny Weasley, Potter, Ron Weasley, and… A teacher?"

Dumbledore gave me a searching gaze. "Remarkably close, Miss Levine. The teacher is Gilderoy, which I find fascinating. I do not think he is missing of his own volition."

* * *

><p>Snape snorted. "Headmaster, if you are done?"<p>

Dumbledore stood again, frowning once more. "Yes, I believe so. If Harry has discovered the Chamber, there is nothing we can do until someone exits. We are waiting, I'm afraid. Thank you for your information, Miss Levine. Severus, I will send word when the situation changes."

Snape inclined his head again. "Yes, Headmaster. Miss Levine?" He strode out of the office, me following rapidly. At the foot of the staircase, he stopped, turning to me. "Miss Levine: do not blame yourself. It is not the responsibility of twelve-year-olds to protect the student body. That is the task of the teachers. We had the same information as you; we should have been able to put it together. Be that as it may, you still should have come to me the instant you so much as _thought_ you knew what the monster was. In the future, regardless of our relationship at that moment, when you discover something that the student body is not privy to, alert me at once. Is this clear?"

I nodded. "Yes sir. But sir, if the – if Ginny Weasley's dead, isn't it my fault for not telling you? 'Cause I could have prevented it…" The tears were back.

Snape growled. "No! This is what I am trying to explain to you; it is _never_ the job of a twelve-year-old to be responsible for anyone's safety but their own. Regardless of all this, Miss Weasley is _not_ dead. She would not have shown up on the Headmaster's map if she was."

Swallowing hard, I nodded. Something loosened inside my chest. I was not at fault. I had not killed a girl. "Yes sir. Sir?"

He glared at me. "What is it? You cannot possibly still be beating yourself up about –"

I unabashedly interrupted him. "Sir, I'm not twelve. I'm thirteen."

The look on his face was priceless.

We walked straight back to Snape's office, me Disillusioned as before. Upon arrival, he sat behind his desk, sighing. "Miss Levine, on balance, I regret some of the things I said in October."

I turned bright red in embarrassment and shock. Snape _never_ apologized. "I regret – well, most of things I said then. I'm sorry, sir."

His lips twitched. "You are welcome to return to practicing in here, after the situation has returned to normal – or what passes for it, here. And perhaps it would be safer if I took a more personal hand in your practicing. Do you understand me?"

My jaw dropped. Unless I had very much misunderstood, Snape had just offered to be my personal tutor. "Yes – yes of course, sir. Thank you!"

"Very good." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Perhaps it would be best to make an attempt at sleep."

I nodded, still red, and left quickly.

* * *

><p>Sleep did not come easily for all that I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Ginny Weasley, pale and cold, bleeding from what my thirteen-year-old brain postulated as snakebites. Or Potter, or Ron Weasley, or the basilisk itself, in all its glory. Eventually I gave up and, grabbing my well-loved copy of <em>The Book of Three<em>, I returned to the common room. It was blissfully empty, and I curled up in front of the fire, trying to lose myself in Lloyd Alexander's world.

I didn't make it far before Snape came in. He looked wide-eyed and distracted, as if he'd received a piece of unexpected news; I couldn't tell good or bad. Dropping the book, I stood hurridly. "Sir, has there been any news?"

He nodded, a small smile breaking out. "Yes. All four are safe; the basilisk is dead." He paused as the tension drained out of me. "And the Headmaster in his infinite wisdom has decided that we shall have a feast at three in the morning."

"Is it that late?" Wow. I didn't feel that tired.

Snape smirked at me. "Yes." Drawing his wand, he touched it to his throat. "_Usque vocem_. All students are to report to the Great Hall immediately. The monster has been killed, and the Headmaster has announced a feast." Removing his wand and replacing it in his robes, Snape sighed. "Perhaps next year will be calmer, Miss Levine."

I snorted. "Can't be worse, sir." I retrieved my book.

He raised an eyebrow. "Would that I had your optimism," he said, and left the room.

END OF YEAR TWO.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Challenge notes and the new Challenge: The cameo from chapter 8 goes to windwalker 28, who really should message me about her cameo. The cameo from chapter 9 goes to Azzara, who will show up next chapter. I hope. Unless the plot bunnies run away with me again, in which case it's the chapter after that.**

**New Challenge: The wizarding street in Seattle, Washington is called Unuse Alley for a very good reason. Where is the entrance to Unuse Alley?**

**Rules: First person to guess correctly gets a cameo. If no one guesses correctly, BUT someone does guess the backup entrance, they get a cameo. Otherwise, there's no winner.** **The answer is NOT canon, so don't bother looking. It will, however, show up next chapter, so it's not completely irrelevant. You cannot review more than once (well, you can, but I won't count the succeeding ones), so think about it for a while. **


	12. A Plane, a Country, and a Dementor

**A/N: Whoot! I actually got this up in a week! I'm so proud of myself. New laptop and all. Fair warning, the keyboard is a bit different, so there may be some odd typos in here. Busy chapter, once again, I'm setting some long (**_**very**_** long) range plans up, so it is all important in the end. See the A/N at the end of the chapter for some notes on research; I do look into things, and if you're curious ('cause I would be), the relevant notes are down there. They do contain spoilers, so be warned. (Just for this chapter)**

**Should probably have warned you guys that the location to Unuse Alley is a real place, huh? Oops. This week's should be easier… Once I come up with something…**

**Thanks goes to: iwright, ARTtastic, dramaqueen1917, windwalker28, and maya. Cameos finally arrive in this chapter; windwalker28 is Jessie, and Azzara is Asher Rosen, who will be more important later.**

_**Lawyer Banishment Charm:**_** … Nope, still not mine.**

* * *

><p>It had been five years since I'd been on an airplane, and I didn't like it any better. It wasn't that I got airsick, or was scared of heights, or anything like that – you <em>couldn't<em> be scared of heights and do well in Astronomy, which took place on top of the tallest tower in the school – no, it had more to do with the fact that I had no clue how airplanes worked, and so didn't know what the signs of an impending crash were.

I spent the entire flight attempting to watch the in-flight video, which, judging by my parents' reactions, should really have been rated 18.

Customs and Immigration presented a whole new set of experiences, trying to explain my wand and text books – of course I brought them with me; how else was I supposed to do my homework? – to a Muggle official. I eventually convinced him that it was for a new game played in Britain. He stamped our papers with an eye roll at my parents.

We were staying with Miriam and her boyfriend, Chris, who was employed at some tech-y company doing something odd with computers. It made Dad really excited, so we left them alone for the most part. Miriam's apartment had two bedrooms, one theirs', and one guest, previously occupied by Chris' friend, and currently occupied by my parents and Chris' computers, which I was forbidden to touch. I was stuck on the couch in the living room. This, of course, produced sulking.

The sulking stopped abruptly the next morning, when I realized what had woken me up. The living room was next to the front door, with the bedrooms at the other end of a long-ish hallway, which turned out to be fortunate, because it also had a large window with shutters that opened outwards. A loud tapping noise was coming from the window. It turned out to belong to a large crow, which impatiently stuck its foot out at me. I blinked at it – it was six in the morning; I wasn't all that awake – until it pecked me hard enough to bleed. Swearing, I took the letter and slammed the window shut.

The letter read:

To Sarah Leah Levine,

Please report to the Bureau of Magical Immigration (BMI) by the end of normal, working hours on June 24th to register with the BMI as a magical transient, hometown: Chester, London. If you fail to appear, Magical Intelligence Officers (MIOs) will be sent to forcibly collect you for questioning. The Seattle offices of the BMI are located at 132 Unuse Alley, Seattle. Office hours are 8 am through 6 pm, weekdays only.

Sincerely,

Maria Giffords,

Director of the Seattle Department of the BMI

I stared at it blankly. It was very brief for what amounted to an arrest warrant. Groaning, I checked my mental calendar against the one on the wall. In what was possibly the most impressive bit of manoeuvring I had yet seen, I received the letter on the morning of June 24th.

When Mum got up, I shared the letter with her. She pursed her lips and said that we could make this work. At breakfast, Mum talked very fast, creating plans for the day out of whole cloth, and ignoring other opinions. Finally it was decided: Miriam and Chris would show Chris' work to Dad, but since Mum and I didn't much care for computers, we would wander around Seattle instead, with a focus on west Seattle. Which was conveniently where Unuse Alley was located.

* * *

><p>We took a cab to Fremont, Seattle apparently having all of the public transit of a third-world city. The cab driver was all too happy to let us off at the intersection of North 36th Street, and Winslow Place North, and give directions to a bus stop for when we were done.<p>

I had asked Professor Snape before leaving how to get into Unuse Alley. When I got the directions and location, I had laughed. Now, staring at the sculpture, I was still smiling at the very thought.

"Unuse Alley – unusually. Well, it makes sense, I guess," Mum said, snickering.

The troll was huge – easily fifteen feet tall – and it held a VW Beetle in one hand. It was also a concrete statue.

Raising my wand, I tapped the license plate of the Beetle. "Alright. We can go in now." There was something distinctly surreal about standing under a bridge next to a troll sculpture, trying to get into a magical street. Grabbing Mum's hand, I walked straight into the statue. There was a brief disorienting moment, slightly longer than the similar one when passing onto Platform 9 ¾, and then we were at one end of a long, winding street.

The street was paved in bricks, and the small, one store buildings didn't quite match up. Off to one side was a set of wooden stairs leading downwards. Directly opposite them was a granite building, taller than most of the others and without the otherwise omnipresent graffiti, bearing a sign reading _Welcome and Information Center_ and under that, in smaller letters, _A Division of the Bureau of Magical Immigration and of the Unuse Alley Preservation and Development Authority_.

"I think that's the one I'm supposed to go in," I told Mum hesitantly.

She smiled. "Go ahead. I'll wait out here. Call me if you need anything."

Projecting confidence I didn't feel, I marched into the building. The inside was similar to the outside, with plain, yet grand-looking, architecture and decorations. It reminded me of a Muggle bank. I walked up to one of the officers on duty, located where a teller would be in a bank. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

She looked down at me. "Good morning. You lost?"

I blinked at her, shocked and a bit offended. "No. My mum's out there." I pointed. "I got an o – a crow this morning with this." Pulling the letter out of my pocket, I handed it to her. "It told me to come here. So here I am."

It was her turn to stare. Finally she reached over and examined the letter. "Ah. Well, Ms. Levine – do you mind if I call you Sarah? You can call me Jessie."

I nodded, realized what that meant, shook my head, and gave up. "No, ma'am, I don't mind. Um, Jessie."

She smiled. "That's good." Opening a hidden door, she came around in front of the counter. "Let's go sit, and we can get all this paperwork out of the way."

I followed her to a table and chairs, sitting half a beat after her. "What do I need to do, ma – Jessie? I don't want to be arrested." Don't sound whiny, don't sound panicked, just keep calm… it wasn't working.

Jessie laughed. "Don't worry, you won't be. We don't arrest kids." Placing a bunch of papers on the table, she said, "Now, before we get going, I'm gonna have to ask you for all wands that you currently have on you."

There was a brief pause as I contemplated the possibility of having more than one wand before I drew my own and set it carefully on the table.

She reached out and pulled it over to her side, before drawing her own. "Not to worry, I've just got to follow standard precautions. They weren't written with children in mind." I bristled; she ignored it. "Some background for you first, so you don't get too confused. The BMI was created to monitor and control magical immigration of any species, from a normal witch or wizard, to the occasional lost Chinese Fireball – that's a type of dragon. America's a very safe place on the whole, and we'd like to keep it that way."

I nodded.

"So far, so good? Great. Now, because we don't want any crazies coming in here, we've got to question any witch or wizard who leaves any other country to enter the United States. To make sure you're telling the truth, I've got to dose you with Veritaserum." She pulled a vial filled with clear, semi-viscous liquid out of her robe.

I stared at it doubtfully. I'd read about the potion, of course, and also about how illegal it was, and how many months in Azkaban you got. Apparently the rules were different over here, because Jessie didn't look like she was lying.

Jessie smiled at me. "It's quasi-legal here. Only for use by Department officials or with government permission. And since I am a Department official, it's all good. So three drops on your tongue, and I'll start the questioning."

Still slightly doubtful, I took the vial and placed the required three drops on my tongue. Swallowing, I tried to maintain focus and remember how it felt. It didn't work. The world zoomed nauseously in and out of focus and things acquired auras. I stared at them, fascinated.

"What is your full name?" The voice came from somewhere both very close and very far away.

The answer shoved its way out of my mouth. "Sarah Leah Levine."

"How old are you? Years only."

"Thirteen years old."

"How much education have you had?"

The information poured out of my mouth. "Two years preschool in Washington State. Five years primary school in Chester, England. Two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Do you intend to return to Hogwarts in the fall?"

"Yes."

"How long are you staying in America?"

"One month and twenty three days."

"Where in the country are you visiting?"

"The Greater Seattle area, Portland, San Francisco, and…" I paused, trying to decide if Vancouver, BC was a valid answer to the question.

The fuzzy aura nodded. "Are you visiting any areas outside the United States prior to your return to England?"

"Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada."

"Ah. Good. Did you bring with you any weapons other than your wand?"

I sorted through conflicting memories. "My brain?"

She laughed. "Whatever works. Are you planning to use your wand to injure anyone during your stay in the United States?"

There was a long pause. 'No' wouldn't come out, but neither would 'yes.' Finally I said, "Only if I have to."

"And what would cause you to injure someone?"

"If they attacked me first. Or if they attacked anyone else, and I was nearby."

"Are you seeking to take control of any part of the American government?"

"No." The concept was laughable.

"How many Muggles, currently in America, know that you are a witch?"

"Two."

"Who are they? Names and relation to you."

"Tamar Levine, my mum. Adam Levine, my dad." There was some reason why I shouldn't give out that information, but it wouldn't stay still long enough for me to figure out why.

"Are you staying with Muggles other than those two?"

"Yes."

"Are you planning on telling them that you are a witch during your stay?"

"No."

"Very good. Drink this."

I watched my arm reach out and grab a vial. It took me two tries to get it to connect with my mouth, but once it did, I swallowed the liquid rapidly. My head cleared almost as fast. Unfortunately, the memories of what I'd said refused to leave. "Oh bugger. Look, could you just forget about me being Muggleborn?"I had to cover it up, had to leave no trace of a secret that could destroy my life.

Jessie stared at me. "What? Why? Oh, that's right, you're from England. We don't care about that here. So long as you don't break any laws, I don't care if your ma was a werewolf, and your da was a vampire. This is _America_. Do whatever the hell – oops – you want, just don't get into trouble."

I didn't quite buy this, and said so.

Shrugging, Jessie touched her wand, causing a ball-point pen to appear next to it. "Want proof? This paper," she signed it rapidly, "says that I have questioned you and you have the legal rights of an American citizen from now until August 16th." Passing it over to me, she pulled out the next. "This one is for you to attach to the crow you will inevitably be sent by the Canadians, verifying the same. This has a mild Confundus charm placed on it. Show it to the customs officials anytime you cross a border in the next two months. At that point the charm will expire. It is strong enough to cover all of your baggage." Two more sheets of paper were given to me. "And this," she waved it, beaming, "gives you the magical status of an adult at any point in the future on American soil. While you are here, you can freely use magic, so long as Muggles don't see you."

I stared at it. "I – you're giving _me_ the right to use magic?"

Jessie smiled. "Yep. Any magic, anytime, anywhere. England's got these things called Unforgivables, right? We don't. Just, if you attack anyone, they'll probably sue you, so be careful. And don't kill anyone."

There was a moment while I stared at the sheet of paper in disbelief. Still shaking my head, I thanked her, and bounced out of the office. "Mum, Mum! Look! I can do magic here!"

She smiled at me, standing up from the bench. "That's nice. So? Are you all legal now?"

"Yeah, and I can use magic!"

"I gathered," she said dryly.

Shrinking a bit, I stared at my shoes. "Sorry. 'm just a bit excited.

Mum shook her head. "That's alright. You're allowed to be. Shall we go shopping?"

* * *

><p>Shopping, the bane of my existence. Well, not quite. I loathed shopping for clothes, and would do anything to get out of it, shopping for food was boring and repetitive, and shopping for 'most anything else was pointless. Except for books. Shopping for books was not only not pointless, but positively essential. I <em>lived<em> on books. Blaise told me on a regular basis that I should have been in Ravenclaw with all the books I read.

There were several bookstores, some with the same books as Flourish & Blotts, but most with a wide variety of others, including those by American wizards, and even some by Muggle authors. We browsed our way through the bookstores, and made the day of many of the shopkeepers much better. Finally Mum pulled me out and across the street to a little store helpfully titled _Mill's_ _Junk Shop_.

For the last two stores she hadn't been paying much attention to me, but instead had been wandering on her own. "Sarah, come here and look at this!" She sounded more excited than I'd heard her be in a long time.

I went over, frowning. "What is it? I was looking at this book, it had mice, and squirrels, and they could all talk, and –"

"Here." She placed a heavy painting in my hand in an ornate gold frame.

I stared at it. It was a landscape, fairly boring, but with a wooden platform in the foreground. "What is it?"

Mum lifted another painting, partner to mine in every detail but one: a girl was standing on the platform in hers, shortish, with a small nose and brown hair. She smiled out at me shyly before blushing. "They're message paintings. If I hang one at home, and you take the other to school, we can send messages back and forth through her."

It took me a moment to understand the implications, but once I did… "And there's no way to monitor it? Like you can Floo and owls?"

Mum shook her head. "The shopkeeper says no – well, the shopkeeper's daughter, the model for these, says no. She swears it's completely safe. Shall we get them?"

"Yeah, of course!" I was thrilled – now I wouldn't have to use the school's owls to send messages home, a process that took at least a week.

There was the prerequisite haggling with the shopkeeper and his daughter – whose name was Asher Rosen, but when it was done, we were the proud owners of two picture frames.

As we were leaving, Asher said, "Her name – well, her name now's CT. Third design, twentieth set. But name her whatever you want."

CT. Cee –Tee. "Catherine," I said promptly.

Walking out of the shop, I ran into a problem. Literally. The boy was taller than me, and older – maybe fifteen – with dark brown hair in a military cut and hazel eyes. "You the Brit?" he growled.

I blinked up at him. "Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I'm British."

He scowled down at me. "Just because you're a foreigner, doesn't mean you get to break the law. Remember that."

"Well, yeah! Of course. I didn't break any law," I pointed out.

The scowling increased. "You're British."

"Yes," I agreed, increasingly unsure where this was going.

"And all you Brits hate regular wizarding folk. You're all stuck-up inbred asses who can't seem to figure out that Muggle-born are just as good as the rest of us."

I blinked, trying to connect this to reality. "I _am_ Muggle-born."

"Oh." He backed off. "'m sorry. I thought –"

"She knows perfectly well what you thought, and I would kindly ask you to leave my daughter alone." Ah. Mum. I felt her warmth press up against my back.

He looked above me. "I'm sorry, miss. I didn't realize." He turned around and fled.

I stared after him, still confused. He seemed to think that Britain was the magical version of South Africa. Was it, and I had just been wilfully ignoring the evidence? It didn't make any sense to my jet-lagged brain.

Mum rested her hand on my shoulder. "There are people like that, even here. Were he in Britain, I'm sure that he would be one of those 'stuck-up inbred asses' he was complaining about."

I wrinkled my nose. "I wish there weren't. I wish there was something I could do, to change their mind about all the people they've never met."

* * *

><p>The rest of the summer went fairly well, although I met other people who were convinced that I was a pretentious bigot. We visited Unuse Alley a few more times, Mum coming once, and Dad a grand total of three times, although I suspected that was because he liked the troll. We didn't get <em>The Daily Prophet <em>delivered – it was piling up at home, annoying Whisper no end – but instead picked up _The Seattle Tarot_ every morning.

It came as a shock one morning in the middle of July to see "British Prisons Not as Safe as Promised: Murderer on the Rampage Once More" as the headline. Sirius Black, it transpired, had killed thirteen people in one day, making him… well, not the greatest mass murderer of all time, despite all the hype. Not even close. The thing that scared people, apparently, was that he had done it completely without warning or evident plan. Well, that and one of the thirteen was a wizard, Peter Pettigrew, apparently one of his friends at Hogwarts. The others, interestingly enough, were Remus Lupin – a nobody, who'd disappeared after 7th year – and James Potter. Who, as the newspaper felt the need to tell us, married Lily Evans and had Harry Potter. This friendship, of course, produced the inevitable conspiracy theories, including that Black had broken out for the sole purpose of killing Potter. I disagreed – I thought Black had broken out for the sole purpose of breaking out, which would make much more sense. Either way, it wasn't about to affect me.

The flight home was just as nauseating as the one over, although without the interesting movie choices. Instead I watched Aladdin. Twice. I'm not sure why the pilot or whoever felt the need to show it twice, but they did.

Finally it was time to return to Hogwarts, after a quick stop in Diagon Alley to pick up books only sold in Britain. As usual, I was the first one on the train, curling up in my compartment with _Redwall_. I had found it in Unuse Alley, and had already read it once.

Blaise was the next one in. He had grown over the summer, enough that when he grabbed the book and held it over my head, I couldn't quite reach it. "Blaise, you bloody moron, give it back! That's mine!"

He grinned at me, white teeth flashing, before handing it over. "The pictures won't move. Get it in the Muggle world?"

I glanced away quickly. "Nah. In Unuse Alley, Seattle. They sell _everything_ there." And I was off, distracting Blaise from the fact that the book was still Muggle, even if I'd bought it in a wizarding store.

* * *

><p>"So you say that you can get Runespoor heads there?" Theo asked.<p>

The others had joined us, Theo, Daphne, and Tracey, and all were interrogating me about Seattle. I nodded. "Yes, but I didn't get any. Too expensive."

Theo frowned in disappointment. "You could have made that back and more if you'd sold them to Snape."

I shrugged. "Whatever. Maybe next time, 'kay?"

Blaise stared at me. "You've got a bit of an accent there. Spend too long across the pond?"

Scowling at him, I changed the subject. "So who do you think the next Defence teacher is gonna be?"

* * *

><p>The train ride went well. We discussed many things, mostly teachers and classes, but also pets, family – sparingly, with few identifying details given – and our respective summers. Homework came out about halfway through, and I helped everyone get through the various uses of Mandrake parts in potions.<p>

Just as I was getting Blaise to explain the Insurrection of 1514 to me, the lights went out. I had been so preoccupied with my homework, it turned out, that I had completely missed the train slowing to a stop.

"What the hell?"

"Language, Theo."

"Bugger off, Tracey; I'll say whatever the hell I want when the train breaks down."

"That's no reason to be impolite."

"This isn't really the time," I pointed out. "_Lumos_." It was a fourth year spell, but I didn't really care. I wanted to see.

Theo and Tracey were standing face to face, glaring at each other. Daphne was pressed up against the wall, and Blaise was casually leaning against my trunk. "Well, this is fun," he drawled.

I glared at him. "I'm gonna go see what's going on."

Just as I reached for the door, someone else opened it from the other side. A creepy skeletal hand, in an odd green-grey colour not found in nature, pulled the door aside, revealing the rest of it. A tall cloaked figure, cowl drawn forward to obscure its face stared down at us, making a hissing, rattling noise. I felt very cold.

Shivering, I backed up a step and raised my wand. "Who are you and what do you want?"

It breathed in, the rattling getting louder. Pressure on my chest made it hard to breathe. The light went out. I heard them, heard them yelling. An explosion, then yelling. Always in that order. The thing looked around the cabin and then exited slowly, as if dragged.

Danger gone, I sank to my knees, breathing fast. "What was that?" I didn't have the emotion to swear. It was if in addition to air, the thing had breathed in part of me.

"A Dementor. It guards the cells in Azkaban," Blaise said. "I take it you heard something?"

I nodded slowly. "I – when I was little, I was on the edges of a Muggle explosion."

Blaise grunted, as if punched. "Ah. The Dementors cause you to relive your worst memory as they feed off the happier ones."

The lights came on suddenly as the train began moving again. I levered myself back into my seat. "They must be looking for Sirius Black. That's the only reason they'd be on the train."

Nods all around. Daphne looked sick. I _felt_ sick. Theo collapsed back into his seat, finally displaying some emotion: disgust mixed with fear. Tracey sat down, shoulders shaking in silent sobs. Blaise was the only one still standing. He was emotionless again, and I worried for him.

* * *

><p>It took forever to get to the Great Hall – the remainder of the train ride, the horseless carriages, the walk into the castle. Finally we were all sitting down, waiting for the first years to arrive. I turned to Blaise. "Is there something we're supposed to do – take – after an encounter with a Dementor?"<p>

"Chocolate," a smooth voice answered. "But since none of you appear to have any on you, I suggest that you _don't move_, and wait for the poor first years."

I turned, smiling. "Professor!"

Snape raised an eyebrow at me, smirking. "Last time I checked, yes. Miss Levine, if I could have a word? I swear to get you back in time for the feast."

I blinked. "Yes, yes of course." Standing, I followed him out of the Great Hall and down to his office.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For the interested: 18 is the British equivalent of rated R, and there were in-flight movies in 1993, but they were located on one huge screen on the back of the bulkhead. I have had that experience on an airplane. Customs & Immigration was a lot looser before 2001, and Sarah would have had no problems bringing anything except eye of newt through. Chris is working for Microsoft on Windows 95. The troll does exist. It has its own Wikipedia page, "The Fremont Troll." The description of Unuse Alley is very much like Pike Place Market; the UAPDA is based off of the Pike Place Market Preservation and Development Authority. South Africa in June of 1993 is actually on the way out of apartheid (South Africans, feel free to correct me), but while it is within a month of giving every South African the right to vote, the international impression is still fairly negative. **_**Aladdin**_** came out in 1992, and the event that Sarah keeps having flashbacks to is the Harrods bombing in 1983.**

**Nobody won the challenge :( , so here's this chapter's: Whisper interacts with a canon character in the next chapter (if all goes according to schedule). Who is it?**

**First correct reviewer wins! Noa Alexandra, windwalker28, and Azzara are all banned from winning (you can still review!) because they've won recently. **


	13. A Schedule, a Discussion, and an Hour

**A/N: Here it is, your next chapter. There are large sections of this that I'm not happy with, but ah well. In real life, I survived Africa, made it through a week on my own, and registered for college courses. Whoot!**

**I do have reasons for all the things I am doing to the schedule. The big thing is that, in canon, Hermione was taking every possible class, dropped two (Muggle Studies and Divination) and got eleven O.W.L.s. However, only twelve classes are named in canon. More on that thirteenth class later.**

**Thanks goes to: sparrowflyaway, iwright, dramaqueen1917, Big poi, BeautifullySarcastic22, cognitio-est-potentia, windwalker28, and KitKat (anon). Special thanks go to Honoria Granger, who felt the need to go through and beta everything. Hugs and kisses! You are a wonderful person, and I think I owe you a cameo at this point.**

**The next chapter hopefully will cover more than twelve hours (oops), and should be up before the end of the month.**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm**_**: No one reads these things so I see no point in actually saying that this is not mine.**

* * *

><p>"Here." Snape handed me a bar of chocolate after sitting behind his desk. "It is the effect of the caffeine on your depressed system that helps after an encounter with a dementor. Coffee, or strong tea, works better, but giving hot liquids to adolescents is rarely a good idea."<p>

I took a bite, sitting on the opposite side of the desk. "I think giving any liquids to adolescents is never a good idea, sir," I said, having had some experience with Blaise's _experiments_ with the possibility of setting Butterbeer on fire.

He smirked. "True. Now, there are two things I need to speak with you about. First your class schedule. We generally discourage students from taking your particular class combination, as it results in class overlap. However," he looked down his nose, "since Minevra received permission for one of her students to take _thirteen _classes, the Headmaster could hardly deny you the option of taking eleven."

I gaped. "_Thirteen?_ It's Granger, isn't it," I said with finality.

Snape's smirk widened until you could almost call it a smile. "Because you have several classes at the same time, permission was granted by the Ministry to provide you with a magical artefact. I am sure that I do not need to impress upon you how important it is that this remain secret." His black eyes glinted strangely.

"Yes sir," I said quickly. More secrets and a magical device that would allow me to go to two classes at once? If he wanted me to staple my lips together or take an Unbreakable Vow I would do it.

He pulled out a small hourglass on a chain. "This is a Time-Turner. Have you read of them?"

I shook my head, wide-eyed. If I hadn't ever heard of it, that made it fantastically rare, dangerous, or both. I was practically twitching to get my hands on that hourglass.

Snape gave me a steady look. "This is not to be experimented with. If you wish to learn more about how it works, come and ask me. Above all, do _not_ try _anything_ on your own. We are bending, if not breaking, several Ministry rules that are there for a very good reason. Do I make myself clear?" His eyes bored into me, searching out my secrets and my lies.

"Yes sir," I said again. I would have been disappointed to have such stringent limits placed on my adventures, but if Snape was being this serious about it, I would obey. I didn't want a repeat of last year.

He held my gaze for one more moment before passing over the Time-Turner. As I took it in my hand, he began speaking again. "This device allows you to go back in time by spinning the hourglass. One complete spin equals one hour. When you release the hourglass, you are transported back to where you were that many hours ago. At that point there are two copies of your body, mind, and soul: a past one, and a future one. The past one has been through these hours once, the future twice. Do you follow me?"

I nodded. He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I smiled. "No questions so far, sir. Other than how it works, but I suspect that's classified."

Snape actually smiled. I suspected that he was enjoying this. "Good. What the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries intended with these is unknown – they cannot talk about it," he quipped. "However, they are used primarily by researchers, teachers, and upper-division students to gain much-needed sleep. You will use it for two things: attend your classes, and sleep. Your first assignment – for me – is to calculate how many extra hours a week you will gain by using it for your required classes only, and then estimate how much extra time you need to sleep. Bring that information to me tomorrow after breakfast, and then we will talk about how often you may use it."

I opened my mouth to protest the short time-frame, but he shot me a glare.

"I have _seen_ how fast you work when you decide to, Miss Levine. Bring your numbers to me after breakfast tomorrow. You will be given time to sleep, proportional to how much extra time you take awake, and do research." It was impossible to miss how my eyes lit up at that thought. Snape's face softened and he continued. "I suspect that you end up with a thirty-hour day, nine of which I expect to be spent sleeping."

But if I had all of this _time_, why would I waste any of it _sleeping_? I nodded reluctantly. "Yes sir."

He gave me a stern look. "The schedule we will write tomorrow is intended to preserve your sanity and your health. If you _once_ so much as bend the rules regarding your use of the Time-Turner, I will remove you from two of your classes so that it is no longer necessary."

I flushed, looking down. "Yes sir."

Snape relaxed infinitesimally. "The second thing is our lessons together. They will take place in here, beginning directly after supper and continuing until curfew, on two or three nights a week. We will determine the dates once you have your schedule."

I had to blink at that. "You don't have them? Sir," I added belatedly.

He looked at me, something sardonic glinting in his eyes. "The Headmaster will not release the schedules until tomorrow morning. All I know is my own, which, obviously, will be useless to you." He pulled a sheet of parchment out of his desk. "Since I do not know when we will be able to meet again, this is your reading list. At the top, I gave you permission to access the Restricted Section for those books only."

I all but lunged for the paper. Books? In the restricted section? I was sold on whatever he wanted me to read. There were five books there, starting with _Introductory Warding _by Rachele Anglesé and continuing with four more introductory books, all by the same author, one each on Animagi, Patroni, Dark Arts, and something called Occlumency.

Snape snorted quietly. "We should return to the feast. I expect to see you in here tomorrow morning, half an hour before the start of classes." When I looked at him, his face betrayed his amusement.

"Yes sir." It was shocking how easy it was to fall into some sort of odd friendship with him, like that with an older relative. I stood and left, flashing him a quick smile.

* * *

><p>As I slipped into the Great Hall, Professor Flitwick left it, carrying the Sorting Hat. I sat down next to Blaise and Theo. "Any Hatstalls?"<p>

Blaise snickered. "Nope. Perfectly normal, except for those." He gestured down the table.

I followed his gaze. "The black pair? Why?" It couldn't be because of their skin; Blaise's mother was African herself, and it reflected in her son's colouring.

"Don't speak a word of English. Apparently they just emigrated here from the Ivory Coast. When McGonagall called their names, they didn't have any idea what to do. They're twins," he added.

Turning back to him, I raised an eyebrow. "If they don't speak any English, how did you find this out?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "They speak _French_, of course. And three-quarters of the purebloods speak French."

I snorted. "Of course they do. Do you?" I asked, genuinely curious.

A grin spread over his face. "Among others" He looked ready to begin listing them, but Theo jabbed me in the side first.

"Shush! Headmaster's speaking!"

I belatedly turned my attention to the High Table.

"…presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

"Sirius Black," Blaise coughed, still grinning – although at Dumbledore this time, not his own intelligence.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises – or even Invisibility Cloaks."

I stared at Blaise. "Who here has one of _those_?"

He shrugged in reply.

Dumbledore moved on after a glance at the Gryffindor table, and I could now guess. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors." He paused and looked seriously around the hall.

"On a happier note," he said, twinkle back in his eye, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was scattered applause, none from the Slytherin table. I scanned the new teacher, trying to get a feel for him. He was skinny – not lean, but significantly underfed – with scraggly pale brown hair, and ragged robes. He looked young – well, younger than McGonagall or most of the other teachers. Probably a few years older than Snape.

Speaking of which – Snape had a particularly impressive scowl on his face, aimed directly at Professor Lupin. I recognized the look: it was the one he gave Potter every Potions class. But this had more than anger in it, although there was plenty of that; no, Snape was afraid, and being afraid, he was even more angry.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore said as I wrenched my attention away from Snape and Lupin. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

The Gryffindor table exploded, again without response from the Slytherins. I didn't care. I was taking Care of Magical Creatures, but only because they were relevant in Potions and many of them were Dark. In addition, I'd never had much contact with Hagrid before, and didn't really expect that to change now.

* * *

><p>The feast passed quickly, and I was shortly ensconced in an armchair by the fire, sheets of parchment scattered around me. Every so often I would swear quietly, crumple one up, and throw it into the flames. Close to curfew, Blaise came over. I scowled up at him. He smirked. "Whatcha up to? We don't have homework yet; classes haven't even started."<p>

Throwing the latest piece into the fire, I frowned up at him, extrapolating freely. "I'm trying to figure out my schedule. Wanna help?"

He recoiled back. "Ew, no!"

I rolled my eyes, returning to my problem: how best to fit thirty hours of work into twenty-four.

* * *

><p>At breakfast the next morning, I finalized my Time-Turner schedule, ignoring Draco, whose latest fad was to imitate Potter fainting when the dementors came in. I wasn't amused – after my reaction, I was in no position to mock anyone else for reacting to the creepy things.<p>

Snape swept down the table, passing out schedules. I grabbed mine and eagerly examined it.

Arithmancy, nine o'clock.

Charms, eleven o'clock.

Double Care of Magical Creatures, two o'clock

Astronomy – Practical, nine o'clock.

"A full day," I muttered. Blaise grunted next to me. "You're eloquent this morning," I told him.

He gave me a stony glare. "I had nightmares, okay? Now piss off." He returned to his cornflakes.

I blinked. By the time I had crawled into bed, I had been so exhausted I hadn't been _able_ to have nightmares. "Oh. I'm sorry." Another grunt. I gave up. "Hey, I've gotta go, alright? You'll be fine?"

The glare I got could have been used to fry eggs. "Piss off, Sarah."

I took that as a yes and left. Others were still tricking in – mostly older students – but I evaded them easily on the way down to the dungeons.

Snape was in his office waiting for me. "Good. Have a seat," he said the instant I entered.

I sat and waited for him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Have I impressed upon you the illegality of what we are about to do and how absolutely it needs to remain a secret?"

I nodded frantically, not daring to say a word.

"Good," he said again. "Then I will tell the Headmaster that and maybe he will let it be. Did you complete the schedule?"

I nodded again, trying to pass over the finalized schedule.

Snape gave me a bloodshot glare. "Read it to me."

There was something very wrong with this, but I ignored it. "Alright. So I haven't had much of a chance to look at my classes, but if I take four hours every weeknight, from the beginning of supper through curfew, that should do it. I'm just worried about the effect of the extra four hours on my Circadian rhythm."

He blinked at me, too Slytherin to come out and ask what I was talking about. "Miss Levine, so long as you get nine hours of sleep, you will be perfectly fine. Your magic will adjust itself." He took a long drink from a cup on his desk. When he looked up again, the faint tension lines had faded from his face. "Today, you will be using the Time-Turner for the first time. It will also be the only time you will do it in conjunction with another person."

"Sir?" I thought I knew where this was going, but I had to be sure.

He gave me another glare, the one that meant he thought I was missing something blindingly obvious. "I will be going with you this first time to supervise and assist. When we arrive, I will then alter the spells on the Time-Turner so that it can only take you."

This time he was correct: it had been blindingly obvious and I had missed it.

The door behind me opened, and I jumped out of the chair, wand out.

"Sit down, Miss Levine, and whatever you see, do _not_ cast any spells."

I sat. Snape was… well, there was some anger in there, and some fear. You didn't disobey him in this mood, not if you didn't want potions slipped into your pumpkin juice. My eyes flickered between him and the still-empty doorframe.

Snape pulled out a pocket watch, and examined it, scowling. "You're early."

"Someone got excited."

I blinked. Hard. There, in the doorway, was Snape. Standing next to him was me. Except I was sitting in front of his desk, and Snape was sitting behind it.

The other me had the grace to look abashed. The other Snape looked annoyed.

"I have not finished explaining to her," the first Snape – the one that was sitting behind the desk – said, still scowling.

Second Snape quirked his lips. "I know."

I looked from one to the other rapidly. "What is – you had me test the Time Turner."

"Yes," they both said.

I looked at myself. "How is it?"

The other me shook her head, looking nauseous. "Bad. He says you get used to it though."

"And I'm gonna be excited about this?" I questioned.

She gave me a shaky grin. "Time travel."

She – I – had a point.

Snape – one of him – cleared his throat. "Shall we move on?"

I blushed. We both did. "Sorry," we said. Bloody _hell_, this was odd.

"Miss Levine," Second Snape intoned. "You have fifteen minutes until class, and, unless I miss my guess, your books are still in your dormitory."

We both jumped, but only the other me squeaked and dashed out of the room.

First Snape scowled again. "You didn't alter the spells on her Time Turner."

There was a moment of silence as the two stared at each other. I remained perfectly still. One angry Snape was bad enough. Two would be deadly. Finally they broke eye contact, First Snape sighing slightly. "Fine."

Second Snape smiled slightly and left the room.

I blinked repeatedly. "I think I know why most wizards try to avoid themselves when time travelling."

Snape – the only one left now – smirked slightly. "Agreed. Now, the plan is to wait until twenty to ten, and then rotate the Time-Turner once. We will perform the operation in my private storeroom," he pointed to the still-open door, "so that no one will be in the way. Until then, I suggest you examine your schedule, and determine precisely when you will be time travelling."

I gave up on trying to figure out what had just happened and returned to examining my schedule:

Tuesdays-  
>Double Potions, nine o'clock<br>Double Herbology, two o'clock  
>Ancient Runes, two o'clock<br>Arithmency, four o'clock.

Wednesdays-  
>Defence Against the Dark Arts, nine o'clock<br>Charms, eleven o'clock  
>Ancient Runes, two o'clock<br>Transfiguration, four o'clock

Thursdays-  
>Double Potions, nine o'clock<br>Double Herbology, two o'clock

Fridays-  
>Defence Against the Dark Arts, nine o'clock<br>Transfiguration, eleven o'clock  
>History of Magic, two o'clock<br>Astronomy – Theoretical, four o'clock  
>Civics and Public Relations, eight o'clock<p>

I stared at the paper. Wow. That was… a lot. And Granger was taking two extra classes? Wow. I had no breaks, no free time. Well… with the Time-Turner, I could create free time, if Snape would let me. And sleep, because it looked like I would be needing a lot of that. If I took four hours here… And two there… But didn't use it at all then… That might work.

"Sir?" I said, finally looking up. "I think I've got it."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."

I took a deep breath. If I'd miscalculated…_ Snape won't let it go wrong_, the back of my head pointed out. "Right. The only time I need, um, more time, is on Tuesdays, in the afternoon. I thought I'd go through the afternoon twice: Herbology the first time, and Runes and Arithmency the second. I'd use the Time-Turner right before supper – there's a half hour break between the end of classes and the beginning of meals and I can use that to cover. But I'd _like_ more time almost every evening of the week, especially if you're planning on holding lessons three nights a week, because between that and my classes I won't have any time to do homework except on weekends, and –"

He held up one hand, smirking. "I should know better than to expect you to fail. What you have outlined will work. You have permission to use the Time-Turner between two and ten o'clock on Tuesdays and six and ten o'clock on the other four week days. They may be apportioned as you see fit. You do not have permission to use it at all on the weekends. Am I understood?"

I nodded. "Yes sir." He liked it! I had even been complimented, or at least, complimented as much as Snape ever compliments anyone. "Now what?"

"We wait," he said dryly.

I hated waiting. Fuming, I sat stiffly, unclear why I couldn't just leave for the remaining time. I hated it even more when Snape pulled out a magazine and began making corrections with a red-inked quill.

Finally he looked up, raised an eyebrow at me, and passed over another magazine. "Here."

Gratefully, I took it and began reading. It was on Potions, of course, but absorbed me for a while. Eventually I looked up again. "What time is it?"

Snape gave me a glare over the magazine. "Half nine."

I sat up straight. "Could we go now?"

The glare intensified. "No."

"Why not?"

There was a long pause during which I seriously thought he was going to curse me, before he said, "Because I said so," and returned to his magazine.

I blinked. "That's not an answer."

He looked up and smirked. "I know."

I fumed quietly for a moment. "We showed up early. So we must have left early."

"Or we left almost an hour late," Snape pointed out acerbically.

This made me sputter. "But – sir!"

He grunted. "Very well. But," he said, standing, "I am well aware, Miss Levine, that familiarity breeds contempt. Do not let it affect your actions in my class."

I blinked again, trying to figure out where this had come from. Oh! I hadn't been respectful. "I – I'm sorry, sir. I didn't – I won't do it again."

Snape smirked, shooting me a glare from the corner of one eye. "If I had a problem with it, I would have stopped you." He shoved the Time-Turner across the desk. "Put this on. You will be the one controlling how far back we go."

I gulped. "Yes sir." Shaking from anticipation and excitement, I walked into the storeroom. It wasn't large; just big enough to fit two people if they didn't mind pressing up against the shelves.

Snape followed, closing the door behind him. It got disturbingly dark. "Miss Levine. In order for me to accompany you to the past, the chain needs to go around some part of me, preferably my wrist."

I nodded, realized he couldn't see me, and said, "Yes sir." Reaching up, I put the Time-Turner around my neck. Taking the extra chain, I looped it and held out the circle with one hand as I reached for his wrist with the other. I found his hip instead. Highly embarrassed, I jerked back and ran painfully into one of the shelves. Something made an ominous shattering sound.

"Merlin," Snape said. "_Lumos!_" A ball of light flared into existence on the tip of his wand.

Squinting, I silently cursed my stupidity. Why hadn't I thought of that? Re-looping the chain, I held it out again. This time he slipped his wrist through it, shaking his robes out of the way. There were scars there – white ridges of flesh in circles around his wrist – and I looked up at him in fear. "Sir?"

He looked down at me, and pulled the sleeve of his robe back down. "It does not matter," Snape said dismissively. "Turn the hourglass once."

I reached up to the hourglass, now swinging gently on the taut chain, and flipped it over. For a second nothing happened.

The room dissolved around us. I felt a rushing sensation, almost like Apparation. But while Apparation felt like free fall in a roller-coaster, this felt like someone was throwing me backwards. It was nauseating.

When the room came back into focus, nothing had changed. "Normally," Snape whispered, "you arrive in a hidden location close to where you were at that point. However, because we used the Time-Turner from the closest hidden location, we did not move."

I nodded silently.

He gave me a _look_. "You will get used to the disorientation."

Somehow I doubted that. It felt like someone had turned my intestines inside-out.

Snape reached out and nudged the door open.

A voice came from inside Snape's office. "Sit down, Miss Levine, and whatever you see, do not cast any spells."

I heard the sounds of someone sitting down. Oh my god, that was _me_!

"You're early." That was Snape's drawl.

Snape – the one next to me – pulled me forward, into the doorway. "Someone got excited."

Oops. I'd forgotten about the timing. It seemed to be working out though – wasn't this the way things had gone before.

The other me looked confused and freaked. The other Snape looked annoyed.

"I have not finished explaining to her," the first Snape – the one that was sitting behind the desk – said, still scowling.

Second Snape quirked his lips. "I know."

The other me looked from one to the other rapidly. "What is – you had me test the Time Turner."

"Yes," they both said.

She looked at me. "How is it?"

I shook my head, still faintly sick. "Bad. He says you get used to it though."

"And I'm gonna be excited about this?" she questioned.

Hadn't I been through this before? My brain still wasn't wholly used to the idea of time travel. I gave her a shaky grin. "Time travel."

Snape – one of him – cleared his throat. "Shall we move on?"

I blushed. We both did. "Sorry," we said. Bloody hell, this was odd.

"Miss Levine," Second Snape intoned. "You have fifteen minutes until class, and, unless I miss my guess, your books are still in your dormitory."

We both jumped, but only I squeaked. Fifteen minutes? And I didn't know where Arithmency was! Drat it! I dashed out of the room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Challenge/cameo update. dramaqueen1917 won; Whisper will be "interacting" with Crookshanks sometime soon… *cough* *overly long scenes* *cough* There will be kittens! dramaqueen1917, PM me with your cameo details!**

**New Challenge: What is Sarah's boggart?**

**Rules: Only your first review counts, have to be at least reasonably close, if you already got a cameo for any reason, you won't get one for this, etc. It's not canon. Why would it be? With any luck, this will show up next chapter (I bloody well hope). **


	14. A Class, a Wound, and a Trick

**A/N: I couldn't resist. *grins* Here in Seattle, its Neville's birthday; in Britain, its Harry's. Happy birthday, guys!**

**Um… This chapter covers a day-and-a-half. I'm making progress! Seriously, once we get out of the first week, things'll go faster. I just need to cover the first of each class, so you can see **_**why**_** Sarah is taking things. I swear, I **_**swear**_** the next chapter will cover more.**

**On that note, the calendar got all screwy. My schedule for Sarah now no longer matches **_**anything**_**, including the books themselves and HP Lexicon. My only excuse is that I was trying desperately to get it to match with itself (which it wasn't for a long time) and I did the best I could. I will be working off of the notes I already have, which include both Sarah's and Harry's complete schedules. (And Hermione's, for that matter, since every class she's taking is being taken by one of the other two) If this really irritates anyone, they are welcome to create a new master schedule for me, and I will incorporate it. Sorry, but I spent several days working out Harry and Sarah's classes, getting them all to work with each other, and didn't want to go and do it all again just because the book said "Thursday" and not "Tuesday."**

**Honoria Granger, I think I got the translations right. If not, oops! *sheepish grin***

**Thanks to: Caitlin, noa, Guest (Hey guys, I can't reply if you don't sign in or leave an email!), iwright, maruaderlove, and dramaqueen1917.**

**I will have the next chapter out when I have the next chapter done. At a guesstimate, about the 10****th**** of August.**

**The Arithmancy class was created wholesale; most of the rest of the dialogue is from **_**Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban**_**, 1****st**** American edition, chapters 6 and 7.**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm: **_**Yeah, nope. Not mine.**

* * *

><p>I bolted into the classroom two minutes before class started. Blaise looked up as I slid into the seat next to him.<p>

"You left breakfast early." In Slytherin-speak, that was an accusation, accompanied by the unspoken, 'so why are you late?'

Panting, I began pulling out textbooks, looking for _Numerology and Gramatica_. "Lost track of time. Was reading."

He snorted. "Typical Sarah."

Giving up on the struggle to keep my book bag organized, I glared at him. "You're chipper."

Blaise shrugged. "Food helps."

Our professor walked in at that moment, effectively ending any attempt to decipher Blaise's changing emotions. She was average in every way – average height, average weight, average brown eyes, average medium-brown hair fading to gray – but for, as I was to discover, her above-average intellect.

"Good morning class," she said briskly, not waiting for a reply. "My name is Professor Septima Vector, and this is the introductory Arithmancy class. If you are not taking this class, please leave now." This time she did pause. No one moved. "Good. For those of you who missed it, this class is on Arithmancy, commonly – albeit, inaccurately – summarized as the study of numbers."

She directed her wand at the chalkboard in the front of the room with a flick. "Arithmancy." The word wrote itself on the board. "From the Greek root _arithmos,_ meaning number, and the Latin suffix _ancy,_ meaning, in this case, action of. 'Action of numbers.' This is a poor way to summarize this class. More accurately, it should be 'Arithmagos,' with the Greek root _magos_, magic. 'Number-magic.'"

On the board was written: Arithmos – number, ancy – action of, magos – magic.

"Math magic," Professor Vector said, smiling. "What you will learn in this class is the technique of using mathmatics in spell casting. Now. How many of you were taught maths at home?"

Most of the class raised their hands, including Blaise.

Vector smirked. "You will find this class one of the most difficult ones you are taking. The rest of you, I assume, were taught at primary school?"

I nodded, as did Granger, Millicent, and a few others.

"You will find this class difficult but not impossible," Vector told us.

Draco looked outraged.

Vector, apparently sensing this, continued on. "The first year of this class will not involve magic. You will not need your wands during our time together, nor will you use them for homework. This year will be used to bring everyone up to par on arithmetic and algebra. If you work quickly enough, I will introduce trigonometry and calculus in the final term; however, neither of these subjects will appear on your final exam."

Judging by the blank stares around the room, many of the purebloods had never heard of trigonometry or calculus. I could see Blaise, out of the corner of my eye, trying out the words silently.

"Math skills are essential to Arithmancy. Next year we will begin examining simple spells and looking at the math behind them. In your fifth year, we will, in addition to continuing our study of spells, start to alter a few of our own. There is no 'practical' Arithmancy O.W.L. In sixth and seventh year – by which point many of you will be gone – having taken a further, deeper look at _why_ numbers are important and _how _they affect spells, you will begin work on a new spell. Successful completion of a spell guarentees you an Outstanding on your N.E.W.T. Most of you will prefer to take the written paper instead. Any questions so far?"

Most of us shook our heads. Granger, meanwhile, raised her hand. "Professor, you made no mention of our textbooks."

Professor Vector looked like she wanted to point out that Granger hadn't actually asked a question yet. "Miss?"

"Hermione Granger, Professor."

"Yes, Miss Granger, the textbook that you purchased will give you a good background in the subject. However, since many of you are lacking in the necessary _mathematical_ ability, I will spend the first year covering maths, rather than magic. Your homework each night will be twofold: problems that I will display on the board, and a section of reading, together with the questions at the end of the chapter." Professor Vector looked around the room. "Are there any more questions?"

This time the entire class shook our heads.

Vector smiled. "Good. The remainder of class, as well as all of the next one, will be spent on a comprehensive exam to determine how much I have to teach you." A flick of her wand levitated a stack of papers that began distributing themselves throughout the class. "The questions begin with the unbelievably basic and continue through advanced calculus. You are not expected to answer every question. You are not even expected to make an attempt. The scores from this test will not affect your grade. However, if you do not perform to your highest ability on this test, you will delay your classmates, which typically makes them very displeased with you. You may begin once you have your paper."

* * *

><p>An hour later, I exited the classroom, Blaise whinging beside me. "Did you know the answer to question forty-two? Because that's where I started having problems; I mean, that can't be something we're expected to know. That's just not right. My mum didn't teach me anything with <em>letters<em> in it."

"Six times nine," I replied off-handedly.

Blaise blinked, following me to Charms. "That's a problem, not an answer. But is fifty-four really the answer?"

I giggled finally. "No. It's a joke from a book I read."

He stopped and gaped at me. "Sarah, you are really odd sometimes. But seriously, what was the answer?"

"I dunno." I didn't; I could remember that I'd gotten through that question easily – having an engineer for a father meant that you learnt math quickly, even if you weren't very good at it – but I couldn't pull out the exact answer.

"Sa-a-ar-ah!"

I ignored him, choosing to find a seat in Charms instead.

* * *

><p>Charms went typically well, although unlike Arithmancy, we did receive homework. After lunch, we wandered out onto the grounds, staying in a clump near – but not next to – the groundskeeper's hut. Draco was, yet again, amusing himself by re-enacting Potter's reaction to the Dementors, although only Crabbe and Goyle seemed to find this anywhere near funny.<p>

Hagrid – my mind balked at adding the 'Professor' – was waiting none too patiently for the rest of the class. "C'mon now, get a move on! Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

This was worrying; I had never had much interaction with Hagrid, but there were plenty of rumours about his love for dangerous animals. And something that got him _this _excited… I shuddered.

The _something_, as I discovered several minutes later – following a lesson on the most energetic book I'd ever had the misfortune to own – was a hippogriff, or rather, twelve of them. They were gorgeous, there was no doubt about it. The smooth transition from bird-of-prey to warhorse, combined with the fiery intelligence in those golden eyes made me fall in love with them immediately. It was like taking the stallion that every teenage girl dreams of owning and combining it with something that can _fly_.

"Hippogriffs," Hagrid yelled, beaming. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

For once, I agreed whole-heartedly.

Hagrid clapped his hands together. "So, if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer –"

The previously silent cautious portion of my brain pointed out the size and relative pointiness of the beak and claws. I stayed perfectly still.

Potter, of course, moved forward, along with Granger and Weasley. Why was I even surprised at this point?

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Hippogriffs were sounding more and more like Professor Snape. I snickered at the thought, and turned my attention back to Hagrid, noticing, on the way, that Draco was planning something.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move. It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

Oh yes, very much like Professor Snape.

"Right – who wants ter go first?"

There was a long pause. Most of the class took a step back. I remained where I was. I wasn't enthusiastic about the idea, but if no one else volunteered, I'd do it.

"No one?" Hagrid looked pleading. It reminded me of a Great Dane after you removed his dinner.

"I'll do it."

I _really_ wasn't sure why I was still surprised at this point. Of _course_ Potter would volunteer. Honestly, what _else_ could brave, rash, _senseless_, moronic, acts-before-thinking Potter do?

One of the Gryffindorks said something about tea leaves. Had they had Divination this morning? That would make sense – if they were stupid enough to take the class in the first place – as I could not picture Brown in my Arithmancy class.

Potter clambered over the paddock fence, turning a nasty shade of red at Hagrid's yell of encouragement, before switching rapidly to parchment-white as our professor – such as he was – unleashed one of the hippogriffs. I blinked, and swore silently, as the other students in front of me moved, blocking my view.

"Easy, now, Harry," Hagrid said in what he evidently thought was a quiet voice. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink… Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…" There was a beat of silence, during which I attempted to move and succeeded only in stepping on Blaise's foot. "Tha's it. Tha's it, Harry… now, bow…"

I was pretty sure that this wasn't what Harry was looking for.

"Ah." This time Hagrid sounded worried, a new emotion for him. "Right – back away, now, Harry, easy does it –"

There was a pause again. I shoved Blaise out of the way.

"Oy! What was that for?"

I poked him. "Shhh! I can't see."

He scowled at me, but stepped to the side.

"Well done, Harry!" Hagrid bellowed. "Right – yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Peering around Crabbe's shoulder, I was able to see Harry patting the hippogriff – Buckbeak, was it called? Students around me began clapping. Belatedly, I joined them.

"Righ' then, Harry. I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

Somehow, I didn't think this was what Harry was looking for.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint, an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that."

No, I didn't think he would. I snickered again at the image of Snape-as-hippogriff and his presumed reaction to someone pulling out one of his feathers.

Blaise gave me a _look_. I ignored him, getting my giggling under control.

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid.

I couldn't see the take-off, but the flight was amazing. Hippogriffs were beautiful standing still, graceless when walking, and completely and utterly _breath-taking_ in flight. Seeing an animal the size of a draft horse effortlessly soar into the air was an image that would stick in my brain for years.

The landing, on the other hand… Both an eagle's talons and a horse's hooves were well-adapted for hitting the ground. Putting them together, however, was just asking for confusion. By the time the hippogriff got his legs straightened out, Potter looked sick.

"Good work, Harry!" Hagrid roared again. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

To fly? No thanks. I liked the _appearance_ of the hippogriffs, but trusting my body to one of them? Not gonna happen. What if it spooked, as I'd heard could happen with horses, and I fell off, fifty feet above the ground?

With that in mind, I joined Blaise and Theo with a jet black hippogriff. They ever-so-kindly volunteered me to go first. Glaring at them, I bowed shortly.

The hippogriff turned a fiery golden eye on me, blinking once, before bowing in return.

Exhaling heavily, I stepped forward carefully, and rested my hand on its beak, before slowly moving up its head. The feathers were soft and smooth, smaller on the head than on any other point on the body.

A high-pitched scream had me whirling, wand out. Draco was bleeding badly from one arm, and the hippogriff he had been working with had blood all over its beak. Hagrid was there suddenly, wrestling with the hippogriff to get it back into its collar, as Draco threw a fit.

There was a lot of blood. Even as Hagrid carried Malfoy out, I was still standing, shaken by how much blood there was. So very red. The contrast of red blood on green grass stood out in my brain. So different from red blood on gray concrete – No! I wasn't going to think about that anymore.

Blaise shook my shoulder, jumping out of the way as I rounded on him. "I don't think I'm the only one with nightmares," he said quietly, with a self-depreciating smile.

I blinked at him, still trying to make the images go away. "I think you're right."

We followed the rest of the class back to the castle, ignoring the drama in the front. I almost wanted to ask Blaise what his nightmares were about – and that thing with the dementor – but I didn't want to discuss my own.

* * *

><p>I dozed my way through our practical Astronomy class – 'most useless bloody lesson on the face of the planet' was what Blaise called it, and I agreed with him – and by the time it ended, I was exhausted and almost incontinent as I stumbled back to the dorms. Thus, when the first scream came, I panicked.<p>

Two years of training – even on my own – meant that my panicking was quite a bit more focused than most teenage girls'. I drew my wand and ran towards the noise.

The utter silence following the scream was almost worse; as I ran, my brain unhelpfully provided possibilities for the quiet. It finally settled on Sirius Black breaking in and killing a student as the worst and provided images of a bearded man attacking a little girl.

Turning a corner in the depths of the dungeons, down an unused corridor, I came upon a sight I had _never _anticipated.

Whisper, looking ruffled for once, was sitting in the centre of the corridor, cleaning herself. Next to her, looking as smug as a cat can get, was a gigantic ginger tom whose parents were probably a pug and a tiger.

I blinked, put together what I knew of feline reproduction, and left.

* * *

><p>Potions the next morning promised to be interesting. It started with Snape's comment as I entered and went downhill – for the Gryffindors – from there.<p>

"Miss Levine, please come see me after supper. There has been a complication with your family."

I blinked, trying to translate this, and came up with _See me after supper for our private lessons_ plus a manufactured excuse. Attempting to figure out what we would be covering tonight, I began work on my Shrinking Solution.

Midway through the class, Draco walked in, right arm heavily bandaged, causing immediate disruption. I shot him a grin before returning to my potion. Yes, he had been an utter prat in provoking that hippogriff – I'd gotten the whole story from a hysterical Pansy – but it was good to see him looking better.

Pansy, who was either infatuated with Draco to the point of nausea, or the best actor I had ever seen, simpered, "How is it, Draco? Does it hurt much?"

Draco grimaced – or, he tried to. Really, it looked more like he was trying not to grin. "Yeah."

Snape raised an eyebrow over his Potions journal. He also appeared to be trying not to grin, but it was much more subtle in him than it was in Draco. "Settle down, settle down."

Potter and Weasley scowled at each other. I ignored them. Snape had a tendency to be vindictive as a general state of mind, but in some places I agreed with him – Potter, while not cocky per se, had a bad habit of walking straight into danger. With any luck, someday Potter would realize that the constant reminders of his temporary stupidity – it seemed to be limited to Potions class and dangerous situations – had the side effect of teaching him about caution and dealing with opposition.

Draco, however, was not yet done showing off. "Sir! Sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm –"

I snickered quietly.

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape said from his journal.

I continued brewing, steadily ignoring the imminent firestorm from the volatile trio, only stopping when Snape finally stood up.

Glowering down at Weasley and Potter, he said "Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

Ah. Presumably this had something to do with the required daisy roots, Weasley's obsession with his own belongings and a rudimentary form of revenge on Draco enacted via his roots.

"But, sir –"

"_Now_."

Even I flinched at that voice. I'd heard it from Snape a couple times, and wished strongly never to have it applied to me again.

"And sir," Draco added, "I'll need this shrivelfig skinned." I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig." Snape was no longer spending any attention on the journal, instead directing the full force of his glare at Potter.

I watched with interest as Potter grudgingly grabbed Draco's shirvelfig and began mangling it with his skinner. It didn't take long before the trio of heads was bent towards each other, talking quietly. I wondered what Draco was sharing. Probably a combination of half-truths and lies about the fate of our Care of Magical Creatures class. I didn't have a clue what was going to happen there, but if I didn't, neither did Draco.

"Miss Levine," Snape said from over my shoulder, making me jump. "Is there a reason why you are staring determinedly at Mr Potter, or was I mistaken and you were, in fact, working on your potion?"

Swallowing rapidly, I looked up at him. "My potion is completed, sir."

One eyebrow shot up. "Really? I find that hard to believe when I _know_ that this potion takes precisely three hours to complete, including setup."

"That's just it, sir, I found some charms to speed up the preparation. Instead of spending three-quarters of an hour on cutting roots, I spent five minutes." I smiled up at him.

His mouth quirked in his almost-smile. "Very good, Miss Levine. Five points to Slytherin. Although I must say that if you had taught those charms to Mr Malfoy, we might have been able to avoid some trouble."

I grinned. "I thought it best, sir, for Draco to discover things on his own. I wouldn't want to show up such a scion of the pureblood class," I told him, looking completely innocent.

Snape gave me a glare with quite a bit of humour in it, and turned away to go torture Gryffindorks, noticeably, Neville Longbottom. I hadn't had much to do with Longbottom, avoiding him as much as possible in case he remembered a throw-away comment from our first ride on the Hogwarts Express, but in Potions it was hard to avoid the boy who destroyed a cauldron a month. "Orange, Longbottom," Snape exclaimed, immensely pleased with himself. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

I processed this, inwardly wincing. On the one hand, Longbottom's careless errors raised the probability of a dangerous explosion and only Professor Snape's skill had prevented serious errors to date. On the other, there were probably better ways to get students to listen than accusing them of blatant stupidity. Compounding the problem, Snape appeared to be particularly ticked off today.

Granger, in a fit of stupidity, decided to stick her head in. "Please, sir, please, I could help Neville put it right –"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Snape said coldly. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

That was… that was a new level of vindictiveness for Snape. And there wasn't even anything that could go particularly wrong with this potion, other than permanently dying your clothing orange.

I tuned out most of the rest of class, as with my potion successfully completed – perfectly, as I may point out – I had very little to do.

Finally – _finally _– Snape strode over to Longbottom's cauldron, barely – at least to me – concealing his excitement. "Everyone gather 'round, and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad." I spared a thought as to how he had laid hands on the aforementioned amphibian. "If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

Starting to grin, I shook my head. The Shrinking Solution did not turn toads into tadpoles. That would be a De-Ageing Complex, which was a NEWT level potion. Snape was being especially Slytherin: Letting the students think that he would poison a familiar, while actually testing the potion independently. That changed things entirely. But still, Snape was being _remarkably_ annoyed today.

The toad, with a small pop, turned into a tadpole, much to the pleasure of the Gryffindors. Snape, looking even more sour – probably at the stupidity of the Gryffindors, who didn't even know what their potion was supposed to do – added a few drops of a different potion to the tadpole, who turned back into a full-grown toad.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape added. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Nobody got the challenge, but the DADA class didn't fit into this chapter anyway, so it goes on to next chapter! Here it is again:**

**New Challenge: What is Sarah's boggart?**

**Rules: Only your first review counts, have to be at least reasonably close, if you already got a cameo for any reason, you won't get one for this, etc. It's not canon. Why would it be? With any luck, this will show up next chapter (I bloody well hope).**

**Also, anyone who can find and explain the Douglas Adams' joke will get a (small) cameo.**


	15. A Talk, a Revelation, and a Class

**A/N: Fun, important, bloody **_**huge **_**chapter. More notes down at the end. Be warned that this chapter contains profuse swearing and some violence.**

**Thanks to: Noa Alexandra, Loves to read books, dramaqueen1917, KitKat, iwright, and Paul.**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm**_**: If it was mine, I wouldn't be looking for a place to live this fall.**

* * *

><p>"Do you think Draco's dad'll manage to get Hagrid sacked?" Blaise asked me around his mouthful.<p>

I shrugged, poking at my lunch. I had to use the Time-Turner for the first time this afternoon, and I still wasn't sure how I was going to manage it. "If you're really curious, just listen to Draco expound on the _virtues _of his father."

Blaise snorted. "Virtues my arse," he said, quietly. "That man's responsible for half the deaths of the last war."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "That many?"

Blaise froze. Across the table Draco said, "I swear, Father's going to get that giant oaf sacked and the monster killed even if he has to call in all of his contacts at the Ministry."

"Look," Blaise said, running a hand through his hair. "Let's go somewhere quiet, so I can explain this." Getting up, he pulled me away from the table.

With a last longing look at my pasty, I followed him out of the hall. "What are you on about?" I asked as we rounded a corner.

Blaise rolled his shoulders in anxiety. "Okay, I know you're from the States, and you wouldn't have grown up with _this_ and all… I'm gonna try to explain it, but cut me some slack, okay? It's hard. There's a lot of rumours, and most of them are true."

I blinked. Apparently I'd stumbled into something far larger than I initially thought. And Blaise was frightened, which was disturbingly new.

We entered the library and went straight to the back, dispersing a group of first year Ravenclaws.

Blaise rubbed his face, sitting down. "Alright. Lucius Malfoy is not a nice man."

I gave him a _look_. "I got that."

He snorted. "You're overestimating the amount of 'nice'. Okay, so in the last war the Dark Lord had a number of supporters, right?"

I nodded. "Blaise, where are you going with this?" I'd read books; of course I knew that the Dark Lord _had _had a number of supporters, but all of them were either dead or in prision.

"Sarah!" Blaise wasn't just frightened – he was terrified. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Those supporters were called Death Eaters." He shuddered briefly before moving on. "Lucius Malfoy was – is – the leader of those that stayed out of Azkaban. He was one of the Dark Lord's top three lieutenants. If the stories are true, he is responsible for the third most deaths in the last war, after the Dark Lord and Bellatrix Lestrange. If he thought he had the slightest chance of succeeding, he would march in here right now and kill all the Muggleborns. And that's the man that raised Draco."

I flinched slightly at the implied threat, and clenched my teeth. "Why isn't he in Azkaban then? If he – if he did all those things, then why? And hang on a sec, he hasn't been in any of the books I read."

Blaise gave me a look, before raising his wand. "What I'm about to tell you… Well, just don't go talking to Draco about it, okay?" Standing and facing outward, he began casting warding spells.

"We haven't learned those in class yet," I protested.

Finishing the last one – I counted four – Blaise sat back down. "Family thing. Okay. Both your questions are related. Lucius Malfoy was, along with everyone else who bore the Mark, arrested shortly after the Dark Lord's fall. Because of the number and strength of the charges against him, Dumbledore ordered him tried first, thinking that once he was convicted, it would be easy to convict the rest. It didn't work out that way.

"That trial is actually considered the greatest farce the Ministry ever conducted. Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mum, went around to all the members of the Wizengamot before hand and offered them ten thousand galleons to pardon her husband. When Lucius Malfoy was brought in, he sat in the Chair of the Condemned and proclaimed that he had spent the entire war under the Imperius. He was instantly pardoned. More money wiped his name from the lists of the Death Eaters, even more to get his candidate for Minster elected, thus allowing him to place a ban on printing his name in connection with the Dark Lord, other than saying that he had been Imperioused."

I gaped at him. This didn't match with_ anything _in the Muggle world. Bribery on this scale simply didn't happen. "So how do you know?"

"Mum," Blaise answered simply. "The Zabini's have a seat on the Wizengamot. That, and she was in Slytherin a year below Lucius Malfoy. After she graduated, the Death Eaters tried to recruit her. That was when she moved to France," he added quietly, "and met her first husband."

"Ah," I said intelligently, remembering the story of Madame Zabini and her first husband. "But wait a minute, if the Malfoys spent all that money bribing the Wizengamot, how do they still have that much power?" More and more, I was realizing I didn't understand the wizarding world at all, but I knew this much: power was measured by amount of magic, amount of political influence, and amount of allies, and the premier ingredient in the last two was money.

It was Blaise's turn to gape. "Sarah, the Malfoys were one of the richest families _before_ the war. Since then…" He shook his head. "You really have no idea how pureblood culture works, do you?"

"I'm pureblood!" I yelled, frantic to keep my secret.

Blaise shrugged. "I know, but since your parents are American, they won't know how things work in Europe. Right. So the Malfoys were already rich. Do you know what Narcissa Malfoy's maiden name was?"

I shook my head, glad that Blaise wasn't going to push the issue.

"Black. Narcissa Black. The only family older than the Malfoys, and only slightly less rich. And – better start before then. Cygnus and Walburga Black were siblings. Cygnus married Druella Rosier and had three daughters, to his unending disappointment: Bellatrix Black," I gasped, filing this away, "Narcissa Black, and Andromeda Black. Andromeda married a Muggle and was disowned; Bellatrix married Rodophus Lestrange, and Narcissa, of course, married-"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Yes. Bellatrix has since been imprisoned, while Druella died during the war, and Cygnus – nasty man that he was; I met him once – died between our first and second years, leaving Narcissa as the only living member of that branch. With me so far?" He sounded like he was taken a well-learned lesson and abbreviating and editing it.

I nodded slowly, taking a moment to process this. "Yes. Go on."

"Walburga, meanwhile, married her second cousin, Orion Black, and had two sons: Sirius and Regulus Black. Sirius Black was disowned the moment he Sorted into Gryffindor; Walburga reinstated him after he was arrested for the murder of twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew. However, since he remained in prison, he has not – until this year – been eligible for inheritance. Regulus was a Death Eater, and died shortly before the Dark Lord fell. Orion died directly after, and Walburga died when we were five, and she didn't want control of the money anyways. So until this summer, the only remaining scion of the House of Black was Narcissa, who handed control of the family properties to her husband."

Things suddenly made sense. "So Narcissa used the Malfoy family money to keep Lucius out of prison, because she then got access to the Black family money after the trials."

"Precisely," Blaise said. "But because Lucius Malfoy got off scot-free, he kept all his allies and political influence, leaving him very powerful. _And_ he's the one behind the election of Fudge."

"Draco's dad – he's not just nasty, he's practically in _control_ of Britain." I swore mentally – how had I missed this before?

Blaise shook his head. "Not quite; you're forgetting the Headmaster."

"Oh." I deflated.

Blaise grinned. "You realize this is the first time _I _get to teach_ you_ something? Right, so Lucius Lord Malfoy is head of House of Malfoy, titular head of House of Black, leader of the opposition in the Wizengamot, with a seat in the International Confederation of Wizards, the current head of the Death Eaters, former Chairman of the Board of Governors, Dark Arts and Potions Master, Order of Merlin, First Class, etc; in short, _the_ most powerful man alive, save one."

"Albus Dumbledore."

"Got it in one," Blaise said, still grinning. "Albus Lord Dumbledore – don't give me that look, he is one – is head of House of Dumbledore, titular head of House of Potter – yes, really – and titular head of at least one more House that I cannot remember right now, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwup of the International Confederation of Wizards, the head of the Order of the Phoenix, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration Master, several – don't know how many – Orders of Merlin, First Class, etc; in short, _the_ most powerful man alive period."

I grinned back. "Isn't it nice that he's –" I choked, realizing that the rest of that sentence might not be true: _Isn't it nice that he's on our side?_

Blaise, suddenly somber, gave me a look that said that he knew perfectly well what I was going to say. "The Zabinis have always been neutral. We did not take sides in the war, and I highly doubt we are going to take sides during any upcoming conflict." This sounded recited, a mantra that had been drilled into him. Smiling slightly at me, he said, "But I will always know who my friends are."

I was briefly unable to breathe. Blaise had all but told me that he would choose a side based on me. I gulped. "I have one more question."

He snorted. "You have many more questions. But yeah, go ahead."

"If Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy were two of the Dark Lord's primer trio, who was the third?"

Blaise gave me a searching look. "Whatever you do, don't tell _anyone_ that it was me who told you." He looked down, swallowing hard. "Professor Snape."

I jolted back. "What!"

He nodded. "From Mum again, and some of her husbands. He was never put on trial, though; when his name was given as evidence from a Death Eater trying to get off, Dumbledore stood and said that he'd turned traitor. The Wizengamot accepted his word, and that was that. Nothing's come up about it since."

This piece of information did not compute. Professor Snape, one of the only wizards to know my blood status, a Death Eater sworn to kill people like me? "I – It just doesn't make any sense," I protested.

Blaise shrugged. "I know. Really though, the only person who _really_ knows where Professor Snape's loyalties lie is Professor Snape. Everyone else is just guessing. Don't get too worked up about it. Look, we should go to class."

I nodded, still thinking. There was something… Oh my god. "Blaise, I'll meet you in Herbology. I've gotta go to the loo."

He smiled and accepted this.

* * *

><p>Sitting in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the 'Out of Order' sign prominently displayed on the door, I waited. I'd hidden myself in a stall, locking the door closed, and was repeatedly casting the Watch Charm as quietly as I could. At precisely 1:45, there was a splashing noise, and footsteps leading from a neighbouring stall out the door. I waited another minute and then followed them, very carefully turning left out the door.<p>

* * *

><p>Herbology was boring, as usual, but I let the Ravenclaws answer more questions than normal. I was looking forward to my lesson with Snape that evening – particularly interrogating him about his past. Following Herbology, I had to "use the loo" again, which almost raised questions from Blaise, until I told him it was my monthlies, at which point he <em>very<em> hurriedly dropped the topic.

Walking into Myrtle's bathroom at 3:44, I took a deep breath, then checked all the stalls. No one. Sighing, I flipped my Time-Turner. Once. Twice.

The world blurred around me and I tried not to puke. When it snapped back into focus, I was standing ankle-deep in one of the toilets.

Splashing out, I made my way to the door. When I exited the room, I turned right, headed for the Ancient Runes classroom, casting a Drying Charm on the way.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, class," the wizened woman said. "I am Professor Babbling – oh bother," she sighed. "If anyone finds a pair of glasses?"<p>

There was a titter of laughter before Susan Bones brought up a thick pair of glasses.

"Thank you dear," the professor said. "A point to…" She peered at the house pin. "Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

Susan blushed and sat down rather rapidly.

Professor Babbling looked around the class. "There aren't very many of you, are there? Oh, there's this message from the Headmaster." Picking up a piece of parchment from her very cluttered desk, she read, "Bathsheba, do not forget that you have two sets of classes this year because of the number of students. Oh that is right, he was saying something about that. The thing is, I was sitting next to Sybil, and you _do_ know how she tends to go on and on. Didn't understand a word the poor thing was saying, but all Seers are rather odd. Comes with the ability, I understand."

Blinking through her glasses at us, Professor Babbling sighed. "Oh, very well. I am going to teach you Ancient Runes and the basics of warding, although you won't get to _that_ for a very long time. Now, where is my class list?"

* * *

><p>By the time class ended, I was firmly convinced that Professor Babbling should have been retired five years ago. I was also convinced that she was a brilliant warder and knew everything there was to know about runes and how to use them. From that class I went straight to Arithmancy, where we, as promised, spent the entire period completing a comprehensive maths exam. I felt like my brain had been dissected using a protractor by the time we were done.<p>

Again I visited the loo before supper, waiting for the splash and footsteps before leaving. The safest way to use a Time-Turner was to be in the same, secluded area both in the time when you used it and in the time you were going back to.

Supper was hilarious for the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, amusing for the Ravenclaws, and bloody annoying for the Slytherins. Professor Lupin's class with the third year Gryffindors had not been his first one, but it had been his first third-year class – the year, in which, theoretically, we would learn about Dark creatures. And Professor Lupin had decided to start the year off with a boggart. And the third-year Gryffindor class had Neville Longbottom in it; Longbottom, who, if he had been thinking rationally, would have been afraid of something like the Dark Lord, or Lucius Malfoy – who currently topped _my_ list – but fear wasn't rational, and the boggart had turned into Professor Snape. And Professor Lupin, who evidently had a grudge against Snape, had suggested, for the Riddikulus Charm, using Madam Longbottom's clothing on Snape's body.

The only thing that could have made it worse was if someone had had a camera.

Lupin was at the High Table smirking at Snape. Snape was directing his full-force glare at Lupin and Professor Dumbledore alternately. Dumbledore was twinkling, and McGonagall seemed amused. The other teachers ran the gamut. Down on the floor, Draco was glaring at everyone, but especially the Gryffindors. It was not a good night for Slytherin.

Following dinner I went directly to the Potions classroom, and then, finding it empty, into Snape's office, where I found him throwing things.

"Damned!" _crash_ "Stupid!" _crash_ "Sadistic!" _crash_ "Gryffindors!" _crash_ "Fucking!" _crash_ "Bastards!" _crash_ "Fucking!" _crash _"With!" _crash_ "My!" _crash_ "Own!" _crash_ "Fucking!" _crash_ "Life!"

He was throwing empty potions vials at the fireplace, which had the sole advantage of not involving anything irreplaceable.

"Sir? Our lesson?" Maybe if I was scrupulously polite he wouldn't take points tonight. It certainly felt like that was the way he was headed.

Snape, face twisted in anger, turned to me. "Oh bloody hell. Sit." Pulling out his wand, he began cleaning the broken glass.

I looked for a chair. "Sir? You destroyed your furniture."

"Fuck," he sighed. "Very well. Your first lesson will be in basic household charms, especially as they relate to repairing my office."

Funny how I wasn't scared. I should be; between Blaise's revelation and Snape's display of temper, I should be terrified of my Potions Master now. But I wasn't. There was something almost _amusing_ – though I would never point it out – about Snape completely losing it and all-but-blowing up his office. "I know _reparo_, sir."

Snape ran a hand through his greasy hair, coated to prevent alterations from fumes. "_Reparo_ is a good, all-purpose charm; however, we are going to want to use something a little stronger. _Infige!_" he called, sweeping his wand over the glass. "_Infige _is also a general repairing spell; however, it actually Transfigures the object, as opposed to Charming it. While you practice it on my desk chair, please explain the difference."

"_Infige!_" My first try barely stirred the pieces of wood; after that, I put more into it. By my fourth, I was beginning to piece back the legs of the chair. "Sir, _reparo_ repairs the object by returning it to its original shape. It is a Charm, which means that it is general, but can be more broadly cast. _Infige_ repairs the object by changing it into its original shape. It is a Transfiguation, which means that you have to cast it on each part to be repaired, but it will not falter and will not repair poorly."

Snape nodded, beginning to look calmer as he began work on his bookcase. "Precisely, Miss Levine. _Infige_ was created by observing the work of house-elves and modifying it for a wizard's use. As such, it is both more and less specific than most Transfigurations. Can you tell me why?"

Attaching the legs to the seat, I frowned. "Because it has to be done piece by piece, but can be applied to anything."

"Miss Levine, do you think that there will be a day when you are _wrong?_" Snape waived his wand silently and the repaired potions vials flew up to rest on the repaired bookcase. "In any case, this time, yes, you are correct."

I took a moment to fix the back of the chair, before lowering my wand and turning to Snape. "Sir? Could I ask you something?"

Snape gave me a look. "As there is nothing I could say that would deter you, you may go ahead." Another flick of his wand sent the remnants of _something_ – I couldn't tell what – into the fireplace.

Gulping, I tried to order my words into the least insulting question. Unfortunately, that wasn't what came out. "Are you a Death Eater?"

He froze for a millisecond, his back to me, before bursting into action. The doors to the room slammed closed, wards covering them. The fire in the fireplace was extinguished, the light replaced by a glowing ball that hovered in the centre of the room. I was flung into the newly repaired chair, where ropes sprang into being, wrapping around my chest and limbs.

Eyes narrowed, Snape strode over to me, wand prodding my neck. "Who told you that?" His voice was quiet, strong, and threatening, with a slight accent on the plosives.

Now I was afraid. Before, something inside of me had known that no matter how pissed Snape was today, he would never even _consider_ hurting one of his students. That restraint was gone, replaced by a mask I was sure he wore during the war. This man would not hesitate before hurting me.

"I-I…" I pondered, briefly, the wisdom of saying that I had promised not to tell, and then suddenly threw Blaise to the wolves. Or the snake, as the case may be. "Blaise Zabini."

Much – though not all – of the tension left him. "Ah. And on the word of Mr Zabini, you decided to ask me an incredibly personal and potentially condemning question?" The words were snapped out; he was lightly hissing his sibilants now.

I flushed. "Yes sir."

He conjured a chair for himself, sitting in front of me. "Did it ever occur to you, Miss Levine, that had I been a Death Eater, _you_ would not have survived to come to Hogwarts, let alone be protected by me for the past two years?"

"Yes sir," I muttered. Yes, the thought had crossed my mind, but Blaise had seemed so sure!

Snape scanned me. "_Accio_ Sarah's wand." Slipping my wand into a pocket, he waved his silently, Banishing the ropes. "Do not move."

I didn't. I did have _some_ sense of self-preservation.

Returning his wand to another pocket, Snape pulled the left sleeve of his robes up, hooking it around his elbow. Unbuttoning the cufflinks on his white dress shirt took a minute, but when he finally pulled that up as well, I gasped.

None of the books I'd read had contained a picture of the Dark Mark, assuming that the readers would know its shape. So I was surprised to see that the infamous symbol of the greatest Dark Lord, so feared that no one, even today, would print it in a book, was so simple: A skull eating a snake, tail first. Or a snake emerging from a skull. Whichever you preferred.

It _had_ been a tattoo at one point; I could see where an inexperienced tattooist had put his needle in the wrong spot, leaving a drop of black several centimetres away from the rest of the Mark. Now, though – now it was part of his skin, that much was evident by the way the snake twisted and writhed on his arm. There was something creepy about the way it moved, almost possessive. The Mark was a faded grey, still distinguishable against Snape's white skin.

Looking at the area around it, I frowned, beginning to understand. An area about a centimetre wide all the way around the Mark was aged and browned – typical marks of a burn. And cutting through the Mark on a vertical line was a ridged white scar; that is, the scar extended towards the elbow and wrist on either side. The Mark itself was not disrupted by it.

"Did – did you?" I asked hesitantly, not sure where to start.

Snape, stony-faced, pulled his sleeve down and re-buttoned it. "The Mark cannot be cut out. Cutting straight through it makes no difference, nor does flaying the skin it is on. Nor, as I discovered, is it affected by burns. The only way to remove a Dark Mark is to remove the arm it is on, and even then, it may relocate itself to the other arm. No one has been willing to test that yet."

I winced. "I'm sorry."

"That's a very Gryffindor trait, apologizing for things that _aren't your fault_," he said cuttingly.

"Fine!" I snapped. "I'm not sorry then, since you bowing to a madman and regretting it had nothing to do with me. I'll just sit here and be sympathetic." I belatedly realized that I'd insulted both the Dark Lord and one of his foremost Death Eaters – who, incidentally, was standing right in front of me.

To my surprise, he laughed bitterly. Looking up at me, Snape said quietly, "A student-tutor relationship is a great deal less formal than a student-teacher relationship. Feel free to continue rebuking me, so long as you are warned that I will do the same."

"I never doubted it," I retaliated.

Snape smiled, relaxing more than I'd seen him do in a very long time. "Tell Mr Zabini, when you see him next, that my affairs are just that and that I would appreciate him staying out. Be that as it may, this was a discussion we were going to have. Since this lesson seems to have devolved from one on household charms – as mundane as they may seem, Miss Levine, they are extraordinarily useful and you will be expected to know them – to one on recent history, I will do my best to answer any question you put to me."

I blinked, calming down. That was more than I had expected, coming from him. And of course, the most important question was… "Did you really switch sides?"

He looked at me steadily. "The Headmaster thinks I did."

"Sir, that's not really an explanation."

"No," he said placidly. "No, it's not. But that's all that you are going to get on that question."

Taking a deep breath, I moved on. "Were you a spy, then?"

Snape smiled twistedly at me. "Yes, for both sides. The Dark Lord knew that I had joined the Order of the Phoenix and was spying on him for Dumbledore. He ordered me to spy on the Order, and told me to get the Potions position. The Headmaster knew that I had joined the Death Eaters and was spying on him for the Dark Lord. He ordered me to spy on the Death Eaters, and gave me the Potions position."

I sat stunned for a moment at the sheer _brilliance _of it. He was playing both sides, had double-crossed – triple-crossed? – one of the most powerful men in the world and lived to tell the tale. "Oh. Did – what happened when the Dark Lord died?"

It was a simple question, sparked by the realization that once the Dark Lord fell, his double-con game would go with it, but it got a larger reaction out of him than anything else. Snape sat bolt upright, face absolutely still. "When the Dark Lord _does_ die, I will let you know."

"Oh my god."

That same twisted smile, full of bitter humour directed mostly at himself. "Yes."

The Dark Lord wasn't dead. The Dark Lord, the most feared man in Britain since no-one knew when, was not dead. For a moment I panicked. Then the rational part of my brain kicked in. "How do you know?"

He snorted. "How very typical of you, Miss Levine. First, there was no body found at Godric's Hallow. Second, while the pain from the Mark was horrible when he fell, the Mark itself did not disappear, as it would if he had died. Third, I had a discussion with the Headmaster at the end of last year. The door to the Chamber of Secrets can only be opened by a Parsletongue. The only two such in the last fifty years are the Dark Lord and Harry Potter."

I opened my mouth to protest. That wasn't a piece of evidence at all, just an assumption. What if someone had been lying?

"Wait," Snape said sternly. "Mr Potter did not open the Chamber last year –"

"As I could have told you judging by his saving of Miss Weasley," I muttered.

Snape growled. "Miss Levine, hold your tongue! As I was saying, Mr Potter did not open the Chamber last year. Miss Weasley did –" I gasped. He glared at me. "Through the use of an artefact provided to her by Lucius Malfoy and made by the Dark Lord. The artefact was possessing her, and was on the verge of restoring the Dark Lord to life when Mr Potter interfered. Now do you understand me?"

"Oh my god," I said again, beginning to process. The Dark Lord wasn't dead – or, well, maybe he was, but he could come back from it… The lines from _The Princess Bride_ ran through my head: There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive. I had to stifle a psychotic giggle. And if he came back… My brain leaped from fact to conclusion and onward, building a chain. And now I could see where it was going… "Oh my god. You're training me to fight the Dark Lord."

Snape actually _gaped_ at me for a second before shaking his head. "I take it all back. Why did the Hat not put you in Gryffindor?" He stood, Vanishing the chair and tossing my wand back to me. "No, I am not teaching you so that you can go fight the Dark Lord and _die_. I am teaching you because that is what I would do for any student who tries as hard as you do, regardless of the circumstances around us. I am teaching you because you want to learn, which is more than nine-tenths of those idiots out there will ever do. That the Dark Lord is not as dead as hoped has nothing to do with it."

The chain collapsed. This had nothing to do with a coming war? He would have done this anyway? My entire picture of Professor Severus Snape was upended and shuffled.

"I want you to have a normal life," he continued. "You should not have to live in fear because of who your parents are. I know that you _do_, but that change is coming. You should not have to fight a war before you are an adult, if ever. You should not have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders at the age of thirteen. I am teaching you because you want to learn, not because I am making you into a _playing piece_ for the wizarding world."

I put together a new chain. "Because you can't help Potter."

He froze again. "What gave you that idea? Why would you _ever _think that I would even _contemplate_ helping the Gryffindor Golden Boy?"

I sat utterly still, trying to figure out where that sentence had come from and why it felt so completely _right_.

"We are done for the night," he said abruptly. "Tomorrow I will cover the basics of duelling."

I had to stare at him for another minute before what he said sank into my brain. Nodding to him, I stood and went back to the dormitory.

* * *

><p>After a troubled night spent trying to figure out Snape, of <em>course<em> the first class the next morning was the now-legendary Defence Against Scary Boggarts class. Of course, the Slytherin class had a problem the others didn't have: Going up against a boggart would tell everyone else in the room _exactly _what your greatest fear was and how to hurt you the most, and none of us wanted to broadcast that.

So everyone was a bit jumpy when Professor Lupin entered the classroom, looking just as ill-dressed as at the Welcoming Feast. "Good morning. Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

We all looked at each other and smirked. No one had gotten their books out, having heard the stories from the day before.

"Right then," Lupin said, clearly off balance. "If you'd follow me."

Draco was first in line, closely followed by Pansy. I had no doubt that they'd be saying something horribly insulting about the state of Lupin's robes. I made sure to be one of the last ones out of the room, followed only by Blaise.

"What do you think yours is going to be?" I muttered, trying not to catch anyone's attention.

He shook his head at me. "If I can get out of it, I'm not going in front of that thing. You?"

I shrugged. "I have some ideas. None of them are damaging enough that I'll try to get out of it."

As we entered the staffroom, McGonagall walked out, giving the class a quick scan and a friendly smile to Lupin.

"Now," Professor Lupin said, pointing towards an old wardrobe at one end of the room. "As I am sure you have heard, there is a boggart in there." As if on cue, the wardrobe wobbled. "Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, the gab beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks – I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. _This _one moved in Monday, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is _a boggart?"

To my unending surprise, Draco raised his hand, as did Blaise, Theo, and I. Lupin chose Draco, which turned out to be a mistake. "No, Professor, the first question we must ask ourselves is, why is our Defence Professor wasting his time in teaching a class of purebloods about one of the more common magical pests."

There were some snickers.

"Three points from Slytherin for backtalk, Mr Malfoy. If it happens again, it'll be a detention," Lupin said coolly, shocking me. "Does anyone _actually_ wish to answer the question?"

This time, I was the only one who raised a hand.

"Yes, Miss?" Lupin paused, looking at me coldly.

I blinked and raised my chin defiantly. "Levine. A boggart is a common _Dark_ pest in magical houses that takes the form of its attacker's worst fear."

Lupin shook his head. "Close, but not quite, Miss Levine. A boggart takes the shape of the worst fear of _whoever is closest to it_. Which one is the attacker does not matter."

I bristled. I'd gotten the answer right and he knew it. He was acting just like… My brain realized how truly awful Potions must be to the Gryffindors… he was acting just like Snape did around Granger.

"Now," Lupin said, "you are going to line up and take turns facing the boggart. The charm to repel it is _riddikulus_, along with an image of the boggart's shape doing something you find amusing. Who wishes to go first?"

I was fairly certain that was _not_ the speech he gave to the Gryffindors. My eyes flicked around the class; from Blaise, who was hiding something dark and terrible from everyone, to Draco, who certainly had memories from his father, to Millicent, who had told me about her half-brother – her pureblood brother, while she was only a halfblood. Slowly, I raised my hand.

Lupin gave me a cocky smirk. "Very good, Miss Levine. Step up, please."

"Sir," I said, not moving. "Is it possible for us to do this in a separate room? So that everyone doesn't see something so private? If the rest of the class waited outside, for example, while you remained in here with the boggart. And that would prevent it from getting confused."

The smirk swiftly changed into a glare. "Miss Levine, when, precisely, did you receive your Mastery in Defence Against the Dark Arts? You haven't? Then kindly let me teach my class the best way. I cannot leave students outside unsupervised."

I swallowed. "Then I will not face the boggart." It wasn't the thought of _my_ boggart, so much the thought of what it would do to everyone else to know that others had witnessed their humiliation.

Lupin scowled. He wasn't as good at it as Snape was. "Ten points from Slytherin for insubordination."

I looked him directly in his amber eyes. "You cannot force us to attack Dark creatures. Learn about them yes. But students cannot be forced to participate, nor punished for refusing involvement in, combat or mock combat scenarios. Hogwarts Charter, amendment five."

Someone wolf-whistled behind me. I wished they hadn't. It only elevated the tension in this situation.

"Ten points to Slytherin for correctly remembering and citing the Hogwarts Charter under pressure," a new voice said.

Spinning, I found Professor Snape standing in the doorway, looking smug.

"If you are worried, Lupin, about the behaviour of your class while you are not watching them, then I would be happy to monitor the members of _my_ house," Snape said smoothly.

The two of them glowered at each other. Lupin broke first. "Very well. Everyone out except for Miss Levine."

"You've got this, Sarah."

That was Blaise.

"Go get 'em, Sarah."

Millicent.

"Thanks."

Daphne.

"Kill the Gryffindors!"

Whispered, that was Draco.

"Thanks, Draco," I told him. He grinned at me and left the room.

"An additional ten points to Slytherin for bravery benefiting a Gryffindor," Snape said quietly as he closed the door.

Leaving me alone in a room with a boggart and a man who looked very much as if he wanted to kill something. I wasn't sure which I feared more. I swallowed my pride carefully. "I'm sorry, Professor. But you cannot ask me to betray my principles."

Lupin visibly deflated, running a hand through pale brown hair. "I-I understand. Now, when I open the door, wait for the boggart to materialize, then cast _riddikulus_."

I nodded, and took a step closer to the wardrobe.

The door swung open.

Out stepped a bobby, in full dress. In his hands he held my wand. I could only watch, stunned, as he raised the wand and snapped it. The _crack_ echoed through the room and made me flinch. And then he changed, pulling out another wand, one I didn't recognize, and conjuring robes around himself. Black, formal, pureblood robes, and a white silvery mask.

The books hadn't given the form of the Dark Mark, but they had printed many pictures of Death Eaters. My heart stopped. They couldn't be – not here!

The Death Eater levelled his wand at me and in that moment, I decided that I was not going to die at the hands of an irrationality. Even as the wand twitched in the movements of a curse, I was falling to the ground in a crouch. Tensing, I lunged myself at the cloaked form.

I passed straight through it, to land with a thud on the other side. Spinning around, I prepared to attack again as Professor Lupin began laughing.

"Miss Levine, to defeat a boggart you must use magic, not physical attacks."

My mind cleared. Merlin, I'd been stupid. That wasn't a Death Eater and I still had my wand. Focusing, I shouted "_Riddikulus!_"

The black robes vanished, to reveal three children balanced on each other, the topmost one wearing a silvery mask.

I laughed hard at it, and the boggart wavered, turning to focus on Lupin.

"Very good, Miss Levine. If you could send the next student in?"

I nodded perfunctorily to him, and left the room, sending Crabbe in after me.

**A/N: See? Wasn't that fun? I really like this one, in case you couldn't tell. I've decided that I like author's notes better at the end of the chapter, so I will gradually be moving all of mine down. Couple of miscellaneous notes: a bobby is a British policeman, **_**infige**_**, at least according to GoogleTranslate, means "fix it" (Honoria Granger, feel free to correct me), and the Black family history as given by Blaise is part Canon and part Word of God. I did not invent that.**

**I also got a complaint that will occupy the better part of this note and will make me rewrite the A/N for chapter 1.**

**There were three main points to their critique: 1- overly long explanations of things already in the books, 2- lack of plot, and 3- lack of time fleshing out characters like Blaise. I will address these one at a time, and try to explain myself without giving too much away.**

**Explanations. Yes, I explain the houses again, and the pureblood prejudice, and all the things that we, as readers, already know. But first, Sarah doesn't, and second, Snape (and others) are explaining them in significantly different ways with different accents and different things left out and put in. Also, look at Snape's words to Sarah regarding muggle-borns in the first chapter, and compare them to his words to Lily.**

**Plot. Part of this is my fault. This is really the first fic in a trilogy, with the second, **_**Viper's Kiss**_**, to pick up right after the last **_**chapter**_** in Deathly Hallows, and the third, **_**Cobra's Heart**_**, to start with the Epilogue and go from there. The second two thirds have way more plot than **_**Serpent's Tears**_** does. However, things are beginning to pick up. As Snape pointed out in this chapter, he (and I) wants Sarah to have a normal life. Normal children do not have near-death-experiences on a monthly basis. Normal children do not save the world. Sarah is a normal child. Harry Potter is not. Most fanfictions with OCs make the mistake of assuming that everyone has **_**drama **_**in their backstory. Most people don't. That's not to say that Sarah's life is **_**boring**_**, it's just normal. Things will pick up by fifth year.**

**Blaise, etc. I will take the fall for this one. But see? Look at all the screen time Blaise got. **

**Next chapter we're **_**finally **_**getting out of the first week of classes. It should be up by the 15****th****.**

**Challenge-wise, no one guessed the boggart, but dramaqueen1917 did get (enough) of the Douglas Adams joke. Message me about your new cameo, please.**

**New Challenge: Wild Mass Guessing time! How many kittens does Whisper give birth to? Only one try, please!**


	16. A Duel, a Visit, and a Monster

**A/N: Here we are once again. Thanks to: dramaqueen1917, Gray Fedora, Loves to read books, iwright, KitKat, and maya. To my anonymous reviewers (KitKat, especially), I cannot reply if you do not sign in.**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm:**_** Does anyone know of a job in the Seattle area? On that topic, still not mine.**

* * *

><p>The rest of my classes Wednesday were fairly simple: Charms, Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration. Blaise, fortunately, had decided that I was just going to vanish more often than usual, and didn't question me when I wandered off to the loo after supper. After waiting for the splashing footsteps that were rapidly becoming familiar, I went quickly to Snape's office, hoping he would be in a better mood that night.<p>

When I entered, Snape was sitting behind his desk, idly drawing fiery runes in mid-air that blazed once before fading away. "Ah. Good," he said curtly as I crossed over to the lone, empty chair. "Do not bother sitting; we will not remain here long."

I stood, frowning slightly. What did he have in mind then?

"Leave your bag here and follow me," he ordered, standing. With the same crisp, economical motions I had seen from him for the past three years, he walked to a third door – not the one I entered through, nor the one to his private storeroom – and opened it. "Sometime _today_, Miss Levine."

Realizing that I had been standing stock-still, I flushed bright red. I left my bag on the empty chair, and walked over to join him.

"Everything you see in here is _private_, Miss Levine, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." Wait. Three doors in the room, one I came in by, one contained ingredients that only the NEWT students used, which left one… I paled.

His eyes flicked over me and he smirked. "Good."

The new room – well, not technically _new_, since it had been there all along – was larger than the office, and hexagonal , with four doors, including the one we'd come in by. It looked like his office, except bigger, with more books in it.

"Sir, is this – is it?" I waved a hand at the bookcases, every one floor to ceiling and packed with books.

Snape was visibly relaxing the longer we were in this new room. "This is my private office, yes. Not entirely coincidentally, it is also the first room in my quarters. Now go stand by the door, wand out."

I straightened in surprise, but returned to the doorway, drawing my wand as I did so.

"Warding is a complex magic that you will not be learning until your fifth year with me." Snape drew his wand and began making fiery sigils in the air again. This time as he drew them they burned brightly, and were sucked into the doorway around me. "The wards I have around my rooms are some of the most complex in Hogwarts. This particular ward compound is designed to keep out any I do not personally bring through or designate. I am adjusting them to allow you through."

I gaped at him. Professor Snape, so infamously private that Slytherin House had a betting pool going on whether he was married or not, was changing the warding on his equally-private quarters – the odds were 8 to 1 on him only having green and silver as colours in his rooms – to allow _me_, a third-year Slytherin, into them any time I wanted.

He glanced at me. "Any time you wish to make a killing, place money on 'arrested but never convicted.'"

I, of course, knew what he was referring to. The most popular bets – at least for those under sixth year – revolved around whether Snape was a criminal or not, and if so, what for. "Sir? Why are you doing this?"

Snape ignored this, making a rune like an M, but with two extra, short, diagonal bars. This one, unlike all the others, split, doubling itself. One half vanished into the doorframe, while the other rushed up my wand, zapping me. I swore. "Language, Miss Levine," Snape said. "Were you any other student, I would have to explain what it was I just did, and how _displeased_ I would be should you choose to use it for other than its intended purpose. As it is, were you any other student, I would not have done that." He gave me a stern look.

"Yes sir." I could not think. My brain was stuck going in little circles: Snape gave me unlimited access to his rooms! _Snape_ gave _me_ unlimited access to _his_ rooms!

He smirked. "The wards will not, however, allow anyone else access, with you or not."

This did not deter me at all.

"Follow." He led the way to the leftmost door, holding it open for me.

The room within was odd. It was huge, larger than the Potions classroom, with bare stone ceiling and walls. There was a pathway, also stone, around the edges, but the centre of the room was covered in a thin pad.

"This room is one of the most protected in Hogwarts," Snape said, closing the door. "It is also unique, in that none of the wards in here report to the Headmaster. Rather, they report to me. I am more willing to teach you Dark Arts and less forgiving, is that understood?"

I nodded rapidly. "Sir, are you going to teach me how to fight?"

He strode into the centre of the room and began removing his outer robes. "No."

That was disappointing. As my stomach fell, I shuffled my feet.

"I am, however," I could _hear_ him smirking, "going to teach you how to duel. Fighting will come later. Take your robe off."

What? I stiffened, completely and utterly confused.

He snorted. "Later, I will teach you how to duel in full robes. For now, it will be easiest in just the blouse and slacks you are wearing underneath those robes."

"How – how did?" I gaped at him.

The smirk widened. I suspected him – rightly, as it later turned out – of taking great pleasure out of knowing something I did not. "Miss Levine, under what conditions would you wear a skirt?" At my flush and glance downwards – the answer was, of course, never unless my mum got mad – he nodded. "Precisely. Thus, it would have to be slacks. Now remove your outer robes."

Snorting – I should have guessed he'd know – I unbuttoned my outer robe and dropped it on the floor. "Now what?"

Snape tossed his over into a corner. "Now, I teach you to duel. Duelling is not like fighting. _If_ I should ever teach you how to fight, _nothing_ you learn now will be of assistance. Duelling is an art form. It bears the same resemblance to fighting as fencing does to a sword fight, or ballet to karate. Duelling is illegal, but then again, so are bribery, coercion, and murder. This is why most duels are fought at dawn. Duelling is a _sport_. You do not use these techniques in an actual battle. Are we clear so far?"

I nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good." He drew his wand. "Duels are ritualized. You will almost certainly be challenged to a duel at some point during your life, and unless you can convince a pureblood in his area of expertise that you know the rules as well or better than he does, you will lose.

"The first step in a duel is for one person to give offence. This is part of why you will not be _doing_ the challenging."

I wrinkled my nose. "And risk acting like Draco? No!"

Snape smiled slightly. "So. You give offense by acting disrespectful." At my gasp, he added, "Hush, Miss Levine! I am making a point. Once you have given offense, I may challenge you." He drew himself up straighter. "I, Severus Tobias Snape, do hereby challenge Miss Sarah Levine to a formal duel until one of us is disarmed or disabled, as retribution for her disrespect towards my person." Relaxing, he turned to me. "Your response: repeat after me. I, Sarah Levine."

"I, Sarah _Leah_ Levine," I repeated.

He smirked. "Do hereby accept the challenge and terms."

"Do hereby accept the challenge and terms."

"Issued by one Severus Tobias Snape."

"Issued by one Severus Tobias Snape," I finished. "Is that _really_ your middle name?"

He snorted. "Yes. Now be quiet, we're not done yet. And I."

"And I," I said, scowling.

"Do give the location of the duel."

"Do give the location of the duel."

"To be the duelling room owned by the challenger."

I stopped. "Wait a minute. Is this going to be a _real_ duel?"

Snape smirked. "Trust me. To be the duelling room owned by the challenger."

"To be the duelling room owned by the challenger," I finally said.

"And I," he continued.

I gaped at him. How long was this going to go on? "And I."

"Do give the weapons of the duel."

"Do give the weapons of the duel."

"To be wands."

I fought the urge to reply, 'to be lightsabers.' "To be wands," I said, mildly irked.

Snape nodded. "Step one, the Offense. Step two, the Challenge. Step three, the Reply. Step four is the Selection of Seconds. We will skip this for now. Step five is the Approach to the Duel. We enter the room," he cast a significant glance around, "our seconds examine the area for traps, and we disrobe. Once that is done, we approach each other and shake hands, before reversing direction for ten steps. At the end of the ten, which are counted off by the seconds, we face each other again, bow, and begin.

"We will not be enacting the remaining steps now. The first trap for anyone not raised a pureblood is the Reply. It must be given in that form; no other is acceptable. The second trap is the duel itself. Only certain spells may be used during a duel. Your assignments are to memorize the Reply and begin learning the list of spells. Until you can produce both of these without prompting, we will not be able to practice.

"Instead, for the remainder of your time with me tonight, we will be covering the proper stances. There are two starting stances, one each for challenger and responder, and then a number of attack and defence stances."

As he went on from there, I began filing the information. It wasn't all interesting, and all the different stances were outright _boring_, but all would be useful. Foot here, hand there. No, not like that, palm _out_. Over and over again until I had the two introductory stances correct even to Snape's discerning eye. And then there were more, the basic shield, the _complex_ shield, the feint, the attack, the dodge. Each with its own formation, and, worse yet, different ways of getting to and from the other poses.

By the time Snape dismissed me, my muscles were aching and I was sweating heavily.

"Tomorrow we will work on marksmanship," he said quietly. To my displeasure, he wasn't even breathing hard. "If you can make the time for it, you should begin running in the mornings. The Quidditch Pitch is a good location. You have permission to use your Time-Turner for this."

I fought the urge to make a rude gesture at him. Gathering my robe, I left Snape's rooms, planning how to fit in a morning jog to my already crowded schedule.

* * *

><p>Thursday, of course began with Potions, and with Snape terrifying Blaise. He stalked into the room two minutes before class began, and gave Blaise three points for "tactful discussion of necessary past events." Blaise shuddered and wouldn't meet anyone's eye for the rest of class.<p>

Double Potions was followed by double Herbology, which was boring as usual, and then… Snape again, which for most people would be a standard definition of hell. For me, it was an event to look forward to.

I wandered into the Potions classroom at precisely two minutes to eight to find it not-empty. That was odd. Two girls, both older Ravenclaws, were already in there, sitting at two of the desks. The taller one looked up at me as I entered. "You get detention too?"

I froze, trying desperately to think up an excuse.

Snape entered at that moment, saving me – once again, not quite the typical reaction. "Miss Levine, please wait in my office. Miss Winters and Miss Korre, I cannot possibly imagine what gave you the idea to practice your Charms homework in my class. While I am _certain_," he purred the word, "that the Charm to create a Bludger has practical applications, _none _of them are viable around potions. Do I make myself clear?"

As fascinating as this conversation was turning out to be, I _really_ didn't want to get caught eavesdropping. I retreated into Snape's office, and then headed for the duelling room. As I waited for him, I disrobed and drew my wand.

Snape finally entered, looking pleased. "Marksmanship is the only portion of your lessons on duelling that will apply to fighting as well. You will need to be able to hit a given target whenever you wish. _Lux._" His wand flicked out and a ray of green light burst from it, flashing at something significantly slower than light-speed towards the far wall. When it hit, it made a green mark on the wall. "_Lux _is different from _lumos_, though both use the same Latin root. _Lux_ sends a ray of light from your wandtip straight on, until it hits a solid object. This evening, your task is to hit the targets I present for you. Practice with the charm for a minute first."

I nodded, twisting my wand in my hands. "_Lux_!" My bolt was white, and it splashed on the wall next to Professor Snape's. Pity, I'd been aiming for dead-on.

Snape turned and began Conjuring targets against one of the long walls. "Each bull's-eye means you depart a minute earlier. Every time you miss the target completely, you depart a minute later. Currently, you are to depart at five minutes to ten. I will not be making excuses for you if you finish after curfew. If you get fifteen bull's-eyes in a row, you will be permitted to depart immediately. Do you understand?"

Gulping, I nodded again. Two solid hours of target practice. Goody. "_Lux_." The white light struck a target slightly off-centre. "_Lux._" Missed completely. "_Lux_." Barely on. "_Lux._" Bull's-eye!

I was released at a quarter to ten, exhausted. Even such a minor spell cost energy, and I had cast it over a hundred times. The weekend could not come soon enough.

* * *

><p>But I still had to make it through Friday, which contained Defence, Transfiguration, History (ugh!), the theoretical portion of Astronomy (almost as boring as History), and Civics &amp; Public Relations, which at least promised to be interesting.<p>

The class was a largish one as it contained students from all four houses. I sat next to Blaise, of course, with Theo on the other side. Looking around the room, I noticed something interesting: sixteen students. Three half-blood, eleven pureblood, and only two Muggle-borns – me and Granger. Except, if you were anyone but _me_, it would be three, twelve, and one. Still, very pureblood focused. I wondered why. The course description hadn't mentioned anything about blood.

Promptly at eight – the class was held after supper – the door to the classroom opened and Professor Dumbledore walked in. I blinked. I hadn't thought he taught classes anymore.

Strolling up to the front of the classroom, he turned around and smiled at us. "Greetings, class, and welcome to Civics and Public Relations – or, as some of you will call it, CPR."

Granger, I, and a few others snorted, badly stifling giggles.

Dumbledore twinkled down at us. "Yes, that does normally get that reaction. I wonder why," he mused, and I was struck with the feeling that he knew perfectly well why those raised in the Muggle-world would find that acronym amusing. "You are in this class because you wish to meet those of status in our world and learn how to properly interact with them. I am aware that some of you," he looked at Draco, "have already received much of this instruction from your parents; however, you were aware that this might be a problem and still signed up for the class. There is no one teacher for this class; instead, you will have a different lecturer every week. Regardless of their background or style of teaching, I expect you to treat them all with great respect. Many of them will not be teachers at our school and so are giving up some of their own personal time to assist you." He paused, looking around at us.

We nodded slowly. I was burning to ask who was on the list.

"There will be no homework in this class…" Stephen Cornfoot whooped and bumped elbows with Adolph Runcorn. "Yes, Mr Cornfoot, you heard me correctly. However, there is an OWL, on the structure of _both_ the wizarding and the Muggle governments, so I would suggest that you study.

"I am here tonight because I hold several important positions in the wizarding world, and so am well-placed to give an introduction to our government. I am the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the –"

"Headmaster of Hogwarts!" Cornfoot burst out.

Dumbledore's twinkling increased. "Yes, Mr Cornfoot, you are again correct. I would suggest, however, refraining from the Firewhiskey before this class. I also would care to know where you obtained a bottle so early in the school year." He peered over his glasses at the Hufflepuff.

Cornfoot turned scarlet.

"Precisely," Dumbledore continued calmly. "Now, the proper place to begin with government is with the control of a country. Who is the chief of state for wizarding Britain?"

The class continued in that fashion. I listened attentively and took copious notes. The Wizengamot was the legislative branch, the Ministry the executive, and they shared the judicial, which seemed odd to me. The chief of state was the Minister for Magic, but his second was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, kind of like how some countries have a President and a Prime Minister. The International Confederation of Wizards was the United Nations, and the Supreme Mugwump was the Secretary General. Slowly, this strange world was starting to make sense.

* * *

><p>The rest of autumn passed by quickly. It took me weeks to get used to my odd new schedule, but fortunately no one seemed too interested in where I was disappearing to before and after supper every day. I began fitting a morning run in by adding two hours before breakfast, did all my homework the second time I went through the evenings, and punctually attended each class. As Halloween approached, I found myself reflecting on friendships and how much mine had changed since the beginning of first year. The black-and-white world I had coloured for myself – leaders and followers – didn't exist except as an oversimplification of an extraordinarily complex subject. My closest friend was Blaise, followed by Theo and Daphne. I was on conversational terms with Draco, Pansy, and the rest though – or as much as <em>anyone<em> could talk with Crabbe and Goyle.

I was, as always, doing well in all my classes. My favourite was CPR, closely followed by Defence. Lupin had settled down after the first week and stopped trying to prove himself a strict teacher. It helped that I'd also gotten Draco to shut up. Dumbledore had out-shone himself by getting not only Profs. McGonagall and Flitwick to talk, respectively, about their experiences in being a pureblood on the wrong side of the war and a half-goblin trying for a Charms Mastery, but also convincing former Minister Millicent Bagnold to come. She spent most of the class discussing the events during her terms in office, but promised to come back in a few years to debate with us the "value of the Statue of Secrecy."

In the middle of October, we turned our Hogsmeade permission forms into Snape, who checked them off, and then made me light them on fire as he cast them around the room, with the comment, "There's not a parent of any one of mine who wouldn't hesitate to _murder_ me if I kept their darling from endangering their lives by leaving the castle with a murderer on the loose. The only reason I collect the damn things is the Headmaster makes me."

Finally it was Halloween and the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. I didn't care much about getting out of the castle – the only people who knew Hogwarts inside and out were the teachers – but the idea of getting to explore someplace new was electrifying. The line, however, to exit the castle, almost bored me to death first; the only piece of excitement came when Potter came down for some reason – everyone knew that he didn't have a permission form, although no one knew _why_ – and Draco snapped at him.

And then – Blaise and I were running down the path to Hogsmeade, Theo trailing after us, trying to be the first into the town, gleefully disregarding the fact that all of Gryffindor House had gotten out before us. It was wonderful to just run.

"Where – where should we go first?" I asked, panting as I came to a halt just outside the town.

Blaise shrugged, breathing even harder than I was. "I – I – I dunno. Start – start on one side and work our way down, I guess?"

I nodded, taking off again just as Theo caught up. The sounds of swearing trailed me. I grinned widely.

Blaise and Theo caught up as I paused outside _The Three Broomsticks_. "If we go in there now," I said, breathing slowing down again, "we won't come out again until the feast. Come back to it later?"

Theo shrugged. Blaise nodded. "There're some good shops down here. Follow me?" He led the way – at a much more sedate pace – down High Street, towards the Post Office. "This isn't really interesting unless you're obsessed with owls. In that case, they've got about everything in there, including some giant things that'll get your letter to the States and back in a week. Other than that, it's right boring."

I had to agree with him. I had no use for owls this year, preferring to use the twinned portrait frames instead. I would write out a letter and place it in front of Catherine's frame where she could see. She would then copy it down, switch frames, and read it out to Mum and Dad, who would use the same process to send a reply. It all worked out quite well, and we were sending letters almost every other day.

After the Post Office, came an offshoot of Ollivanders – "crewed by one of his equally odd children. Also boring" – and then Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, the first shop we went into. As benefited a more serious shop, there was a dearth of students, and we were practically the only ones there. Blaise wandered around and pointed out things for my benefit – an amulet that showed secrets, or a knife that could cut through anything – but before long Theo got bored and pulled us out. The next store was _Sprintwitches_, which Theo liked a lot better – he was interested in Quidditch – but bored both Blaise and I. Then came _Tomes and Scrolls_, where I became the first one to spend money by getting a book on Roman magics, and then a music shop that no one really wanted to spend time in, and then we turned down another street, this one unnamed. We started with a herbology shop, which _I _found fascinating – because of all the Potions ingredients – even if no one else did. _I_ wanted to go into the cauldron shop, but the boys threatened to kill me if I did any more shopping for school.

Then we crossed the street, and took a peek in _The Hog's Head_, declining to go in because of the abundance of goat, passed by a greengrocer's – "boring" – and turned back onto High Street. This time we started in a quill shop, where Theo proved to be wealthy by getting us all a set of peacock feather quills. _Dervish and Banges_ was peered in, but not explored – none of us had anything that could be repaired – and we turned and made our way back. We skipped _Madam Puddifoot's_ and the radio headquarters to enter _Gladrags_, just for amusement value. None of us were looking for clothes, and if we were, we wouldn't have gotten any from that store.

By the time we stood outside of _Zonko's_, it was growing dark. "We should go back," I said, to the disappointment of the others.

Blaise scowled. "Fine. Next month, though." He gestured into the joke shop.

"What were you planning to get?" Theo asked. "You've never pranked any of us before."

Snorting, Blaise said, "My brother's coming here next year, and he… well, I think he's actually related to the Weasley Twins."

I winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah," Blaise agreed. "I wanted to stock up now, when he couldn't get into my trunk."

Theo nodded. "Next time, then. Let's go up, shall we?"

* * *

><p>The feast was amazing as always, and as it ended, the three of us headed down to the Common Room to talk, and joke, and mess around with each other.<p>

"I haven't heard of this brother, Blaise. What's his name?" I sprawled near the fire, Theo actually sitting in a chair, Blaise propped up against it.

Blaise groaned. "Tristan Zabini. I swear – Mum names me Blaise, after some damned mathematician, and it means stammer. She calls _him_ Tristan, after the guy in the old stories, and it means tumult. She's got it in for us, I bloody well swear."

Theo snorted. "Do you know _his_ father?"

"Yep, and it wasn't one of the ones I liked. Some rich-as-Croesus wizard, from _Zimbabwe_, of all places. He lasted about three weeks – she _did _kill him, not that I got too choked up. He hit me a couple times. The only way I know Tristan's his son is that there was no one else within four months of him." Blaise scowled down at his knees.

I smiled at him sympathetically. "She still won't tell you?" This was a common theme among us.

Blaise laughed, plainly bitter. "Hell no. She won't even narrow it down. It doesn't help that half the marriages aren't registered with the Ministry, and – if I got the timeline right – she was married to at _least_ three guys nine months before I was born. She told me over the summer that Patrin went through that year, so there's no fewer than four!" He rolled over to lie on his back.

"Ouch. I'm sorry," I said.

He ignored me, uncomfortable with emotions. "Can we talk about something else now?"

At that point Snape burst in, saving Blaise. "_Usque vocem_. Students are to return to the Great Hall immediately. Promises cannot be made for your safety if you remain outside the Great Hall."

Theo and Blaise got up immediately, following some of the Prefects out into the corridor. I remained where I was. "Sir? What's going on?"

Snape turned to me, face furious. "Sirius Black is in the castle."

I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I had heard him sound that angry. "Do – do you need me?"

He softened infinitesimally. "That was a very Gryffindor statement, Miss Levine. Please refrain from saying anything of the sort in the future. In answer to your ill-thought question, no, a third-year will be of little help in catching a mass murderer."

I winced. "Yes sir." Moving quickly, I followed Blaise and Theo to the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>Other than the fantastic rumours – my favourite was that Sirius Black could turn into a rock and slip past the Dementors that way, although, when challenged, the first-year Ravenclaw could not then explain how a rock could move – the night was boring. No one could get to sleep, even under the watchful eyes of the prefects. Unfortunately, said watchful eyes also made it difficult to hold a conversation. Eventually Blaise, Theo, and I took turns dozing off, none of us trusting to the prefects to keep us safe. I strongly suspected the rest of Slytherin House of doing the same thing.<p>

To the unending delight of the rumour mill, Black was not caught that night. The following week was tense, especially in Potions, where Snape seemed particularly upset. To top it all off, Draco was being odd. Our friendship had never recovered after the events of the past year, and we had grown distant. This did not stop me from noticing, however, Draco's mercurial personality when it came to Sirius Black. One moment he was convinced the man was the Dark Lord reborn, the next he was ranting against the traitor to the purebloods. Both opinions resulted in him egging Potter on, trying to get him to go after the escaped convict. I kept my fingers crossed that Potter would, for once, keep his cool.

The week only went downhill on Friday, which started with Defence. Normally the news - given to me, and subsequently spread, by Snape the night before – that Snape was substituting for one of our classes would send the Slytherins into hysterical glee, but his temper this week kept us subdued. Even I wasn't looking forward to the class, having experienced Snape's temper in the form of longer, faster, and harder drills than ever before.

I was early to class, grabbing a seat in the front of the room. This gave me the perfect view of Snape's absolutely stony glare as he began the class.

"Professor Lupin has _failed_ to leave behind an accurate record of the topics covered so far. As such, today we shall discuss werewolves." He held the textbook open to the very back.

I twitched slightly – we were doing the creatures in order of difficulty, and werewolves were some of the worst – but kept my hand down.

"Turn to page 394. When you are there, who can tell me the difference between the werewolf and the true wolf?"

Draco's hand went up. "Well, sir, the true wolf is furry every day of the year. A werewolf is only furry one in every twenty-eight."

There were scattered snickerings.

"Five points from Slytherin for backchat, Mr Malfoy. Who has a _valid_ answer?"

The class shut up immediately.

I raised my hand. "Sir, a werewolf is distinguishable by the length of its snout, the shape of its pupils, the tuft on its tail, that it has five claws on each foot rather than four, and that its fur is the same colour as the human it transforms from." There were advantages to reading all your textbooks before school started.

Snape nodded. "Five points to Slytherin. You will spend the remainder of the period taking notes on werewolves. I will collect your notes at the end of the period; should they prove satisfactory, there will be no homework over the weekend."

The rest of class was quiet as we worked, almost afraid to catch Snape's attention. Something floated around in my mind, but it took me the entire period to figure out what it was: I'd seen an almost-full moon the night before. And Lupin was gone today, without explanation. And he had scars on his face and hands, _and_ was very poor, despite being a good wizard.

After class, I waited for everyone to leave before walking up to Snape. "Sir? Is Professor Lupin – I think he's a werewolf."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Everyone still here? Good. The chapters aren't **_**supposed**_** to be getting longer… What's going on is that I've worked out an outline for the rest of year three, but all it includes are the canon scenes. Everything else – lessons with Snape, the Hogsmeade visit, **_**anything**_** involving Blaise – is unplanned for and spontaneous. What that means is that this chapter was intended to be 4000 words and finish with the aftermath of the Quidditch match. Instead it's 5300 and doesn't even start the match. Year Three was supposed to take another three chapters. It's probably going to take about five. Ah well.**

**Last chapter I ran headlong into one of the limitations of First Person POV: we only see Sarah's interpretation of events. This led to a critique, which lead to me dancing around the room. No joke. Critiques make me **_**HAPPY.**_** Anyway, so this was the critique:**

**There is, at no point in the books, any indication that Lupin has any issues with Slytherin House or even Snape, and in fact he acts very amicable towards Snape throughout the entirety of PoA. If this is a case of Sarah's limited knowledge and perspective interfering then feel free to correct me.**

**And this was my response:**

**You are mostly right; if you just look at the dialogue between Lupin and the Slytherin class, he's really not being awful. Mostly he's responding to Draco being a complete and utter jerk. However, there is evidence that Lupin does carry a grudge towards Snape, even if he's being passive-aggressive about it: It is Lupin who suggests to Neville that he force the Snape-boggart into his grandmother's clothes. I find it hard to believe that Lupin is not trying to hurt Snape with this.**

**So a little bit of both. Did this help?**

**Challenges, cameos, and et cetera.**

**Azzara, your cameo got changed; you're now the shop-girl. I realised how important the painting is going to be later on, and I thought that it was unfair to everyone else for you to get a huge role, and they all to get bit parts.**

**Dramaqueen1917, you are Miss Winters. Miss Korre is a real-life friend of mine.**

**Kittens should come next chapter; there are **_**four**_** of them (congrats to Gray Fedora, who guessed right), and I already have names and appearances. I also know (more or less) who they are going to.**

**Challenge: Little bit of research for you all. I did not make up the name Tristan. Where did I get it from? (More details = happier author!) **

**Tristan, right now, is important but not crucial; if someone has a brilliant idea involving his origins, I may use it.**


	17. A Werewolf, a Birth, and a Spell

**A/N: So nice to see everyone. Thanks to: Gray Fedora, MyPatronusIsAPineMarten, Loves to read books, dramaqueen1917, and paul. Loves to read books, I can't respond to your reviews if you have disabled Private Messaging. BTW, the name you were thinking of was Triton, not Tristan.**

**Lawyer Banishing Charm: Not mine.**

* * *

><p><em>In the previous episode: After class, I waited for everyone to leave before walking up to Snape. "Sir? Is Professor Lupin – I think he's a werewolf."<em>

Snape gave me a steady look. "Why am I not surprised?" he asked the air. "You are, of course, correct, but this is not a discussion we should be having here. Join me during lunch." With one last searching look at me, he swept out of the room.

Sighing, I went off to Transfiguration to begin discussing object-to-animal transformations. While the year before we had been transfiguring an animal, such as a tarantula, into an object, such as a teacup, and then letting the transfiguration naturally undo itself, this year we were attempting the much harder task of turning a solid object into a complex animal with a mind of its own.

At lunch, Blaise accepted the fairly flimsy explanation that I had to go to the library and study, and didn't make a fuss when I ran off three minutes into the meal.

Snape wasn't in the classroom or his office, so I took the unspoken invitation and walked through to his private office. He was standing in front of a bookcase, a reasonably large tome propped open in front of him, dictating to a quill and parchment that were hovering off to the side. He looked completely relaxed.

"Sir? You asked for me?"

He turned, surprised briefly; then, with a flick of his wand, the book flew back to its spot and shelved itself, the parchment rolled into a scroll and landed on his desk, and the quill returned to his quill stand. "You are prompt," he said, surprise still evident in his voice.

I wasted a fruitless moment trying to determine if he was letting me know he was surprised on purpose or not, before nodding.

"Do you wish to become an Animagus?"

The question took _me_ by surprise. "Er… Yes, of course. Why?"

Snape ran his hand along the bookshelf. "I am planning your lessons. You would not begin those until fifth year, but it is important to be prepared."

I blinked. "Oh," I said, suddenly no longer articulate.

He smirked. "You have determined that Professor Lupin is a werewolf, and now you are here because you have more questions."

I glared at him briefly, before giving it up as a bad job. Snape _would_ put together correct conclusions from scanty information, and he _would_ then show off the information, because that's what _I_ would do.

Snape sat behind his desk, Conjuring a chair for me. "Sit down."

I sat. You didn't question Snape, no matter what mood he was in. Although it did appear that he was in a good mood today, one couldn't be certain, and it would be all too easy to change that.

"Professor Lupin was bitten by Fenrir Greyback as a child." I noted the addition of a title to Lupin's name; something that had been conspicuously absent before. "Greyback was a supporter of the Dark Lord; he was sent to attack the children of the Dark Lord's opponents. When Professor Lupin came to this school as a student, several defences were put in place." Catching my look, he said, "No, I won't share them now, not until you need to know. All that is relevant is that during his time as a student, no one was bitten."

I picked through his language, and read the tense lines in his face. "Were there any close calls?"

He gave me a stern look. "Lupin was invited to teach here this year for a number of reasons: he was a prominent member of the Order of the Phoenix during the war, which means that he is trustworthy."

"At least as far as the Headmaster measures such things," I pointed out.

Snape acknowledged my interjection with a slight smile and a nod. "He is an above-average wizard, yet, because he is a werewolf, he has had problems finding a job. These taken together mean that the Headmaster was predisposed to be handing out job opportunities to him. In addition, the Defence position has gone through at least one teacher every year for the past forty. It is getting… difficult to find qualified, willing applicants for a cursed position. And finally," he paused, evidently pondering something, "he was friends with James Potter and Sirius Black in school."

My brain exploded in excitement. I hadn't put the names together, assuming instead that they were merely relatives, but I'd seen the name Lupin before the start of this year. It had been in a copy of _The Seattle Tarot_, the same one that had announced Black's escape. "All – all four? In the same year? I mean, was Peter Pettigrew there too?"

Something twitched in Snape's jaw. "Yes. All four of them. The Headmaster, being the forgiving _idiot_ that he is," I had never heard Snape speak of Dumbledore that way, "feels that Lupin had nothing to do with Black's escape. He wanted Lupin here to provide protection for him, against the _fearsome, mass murderer_."

"And you feel?" I asked, sensing a problem.

"That Lupin aided Black's breakout, and that having him here at the school is an invitation for Black to come finish off Potter."

I blinked. Somehow I'd wandered into a nest of snakes – metaphorical ones, at least. "Oh. I – That's all the questions, I think."

He snorted. "My worries are none of your problem. Return to class. Be aware that one of your professors turns furry once a month, but it will not affect you. There is a potion, called Wolfsbane, that will subdue the werewolf, making him safe during the full moon. It is complex, but not beyond my abilities. So long as he takes it during the twenty-four hours preceding the moonrise, there will not be a problem."

I swallowed and nodded. "When will I learn –"

"Fifth year at the earliest. If brewed wrong, it has a tendency to explode in poisonous fumes. More so than most of the potions you are working on."

It took a moment to process all of this. "Yes sir. I'll go now, then?"

Snape smiled, relaxing. "Yes, Miss Levine. I will see you Tuesday evening."

* * *

><p>The next morning it was raining a bit. At least, that's how I described the weather to Blaise, who gave me a stony glare, and retaliated by pointing out that the last time it had rained this much had been the month of March. The boys – and a few of the girls – were particularly disgruntled at this, since it was the first Quidditch match of the year, between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Draco was smirking widely; apparently the first match of the year was <em>typically<em> between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but he had made a lot of noise about the injury in his arm, and had gotten the Slytherin and Hufflepuff games switched.

I finished breakfast protesting noisily. "I don't _want_ to go to the Quidditch match. I don't _like_ Quidditch. I'll get wet; I can accomplish much more by staying inside!"

"Sa-ra-ah!" Blaise whined. "But it's Gryffindor-Hufflepuff!"

This made no sense to my brain. "And? Last time they played," which had been first year, due to the basilisk that I was _not feeling guilty about_, "Potter caught the Snitch in five minutes. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

Blaise gave me a look like I was insane. "Because it's _raining!_"

I returned the look, with interest. "That's my point!"

Theo decided to get involved. "You'll be learning how to fly in the rain."

This time the steady glare was directed at Theo. "I don't _want _to fly. I don't _like_ flying. Too much trust in something-not-me. And that trick only worked for the one game."

Blaise grinned at me. "_Pansy's_ going," he said in a sing-song voice. "_Pansy_ wants to look at Cedric Diggory."

I could not, if I tried, come up with a worse reason for doing something. "Your point?" I said, in my best Snape-imitation.

Theo snickered. "If you don't go, we'll Stun you and drag you down to the field by force."

I considered that two third years would hardly pose a challenge to me after months of training with Snape, and then that demonstrating this at breakfast was hardly a good strategy for anything, and then that they probably weren't serious, and then that showing off would hurt and embarrass them, and finally said, "_Fine_. I'll go."

The weather was, indeed, hideous. I cast a low-level repelling charm over the three of us that the boys had the good sense not to question before settling down in the stands. "Remind me again why I'm here," I mumbled.

"Because you love us like brothers," Blaise said, smirking, and throwing an arm around my shoulders.

This got the glare it deserved, but further squabbling was curtailed by the start of the game. Thunder accompanied the players like a particularly sadistic timpani player, and lightning imitated the Las Vegas strip. I was impressed that the players could see the balls, considering that I had problems finding Draco, sitting two rows down.

The wind was such that it took me a while to realize it was getting colder, and several more minutes passed before I figured out why. A herd – mob? Murder?- of dementors was sweeping over the Quidditch field, spreading terror and destruction in their wake.

Even as the explosions began in my head again, I was on my feet, wand out. "_Protego!"_ I had no hope that it would actually help – it was impossible to have such a happy emotion as _hope_ – but I had to do something.

The blue sphere expanded to cover Blaise and Theo. "Someday," Blaise muttered, "you will tell me why you can flawlessly produce a fourth year charm."

Doing my best to keep the shield up and ignore the growing chill, I forced a smile out. "When you tell me what you hear."

Screams echoed in my head, and it took me a minute to realize that it wasn't just me being mental again. There were actually people screaming now. My brain processed this slowly.

Fortunately, not everyone was having the same problem. Brilliant white animals burst out of the teachers' wands, beginning a patrol around the stands, corralling the dementors. Dumbledore stood, looking utterly furious – I understood, later, how he could be the 'only one the Dark Lord ever feared' – and cast two spells at once, which did absolute wonders for my impression of his strength. One formed another silver-white animal that drove the dementors back and out of the stadium, while the other slowed a falling body to a halt in mid-air.

Falling body?

As my brain cleared – the dementors were leaving the stadium at a terrific pace – I realized what must have happened. Potter, with his atrocious reaction to the dementors, had fallen off his broom from fifty feet up. And Dumbledore had stopped him from dying.

I dropped the shield. "I'll explain later, Blaise," I said shakily. "Theo?" I asked, meaning, did he want to work out a similar deal.

He shook his head. "Don't tell me. I've got enough problems of my own."

I shrugged, and began stumbling down the stands. The shield hadn't really _helped_, in terms of blocking the dementor's influence, but it did allow me to ignore, somewhat successfully, the emanation of negative feelings. Still, I was feeling decidedly weak and shaky as I wandered back to the castle, ignoring the panicky conversations of the other students. Half of Gryffindor house was headed to the hospital wing to check on Potter. I didn't care much; he was alive, and everything else was reparable.

Instead, I was headed, as always, for Snape's office. Those white spells had to be useful, and I wanted to learn them as soon as possible.

Unusually, I beat him there, although I wasn't waiting long. When he stalked in, looking more than normally upset, he smirked briefly at me. "Should I expect you here after every school-wide disaster?"

Despite the situation, I had to smile. "Probably. What was the spell all of you were using?"

He sighed. "Nothing I intended to teach you for a few years yet, but given the situation… The Patronus Charm. It is the only defence against a dementor, although it will work against Lethifolds as well. We can begin work on it on Tuesday; I would not expect results until December at the earliest, so do not have high expectations."

I gave him a look. "High expectations?"

Snape relaxed further, on the now-familiar ground of our lessons. "The Patronus Charm is a notoriously trick defence spell not normally taught at Hogwarts because of the time and effort needed to get it correct. If we could hold a Defence teacher for longer than a year, they likely would begin to teach it at N.E.W.T. level; as it is, however…" He shrugged. "Unlike most NEWT level charms, it is not dangerous to get wrong, nor does it require excessive amounts of power. The concentration and techniques are tricky, however, and that is why it is not normally taught."

I nodded. "Yes sir. Thank you."

He actually smiled at me. I left quickly, as he acted like he had something to do.

* * *

><p>I was up first the next morning, having scorned the idea of staying up in the common room all night gossiping about how Potter's fall and the subsequent destruction of his broomstick would change our chances of winning the Quidditch Cup. This turned out to be fortunate, as Whisper, whose belly had been getting larger throughout the past two months, was standing next to my bed, mewing plaintively. It took about three seconds for me to put together what was going on, and a further five to come up with a plan of action. Somehow, although I knew that the ginger tom and Whisper had mated, <em>and<em> that Whisper had then become pregnant, I had never really considered the possibility of kittens.

So I wasn't prepared at all, and off the top of my head could only think of one person who would be able to deal with this. Unfortunately, while I had five staircases and three long corridors to mentally prepare, the first _she_ knew of it was when I showed up at her office, Whisper unhappily laying in my arms.

McGonagall clearly hadn't been expecting students at six in the morning, as her robes were haphazardly thrown on, and several strands of hair were escaping from her bun. Blinking down at me, she said crossly, "Take it to your own Head of House, Miss Levine," and moved to close the door.

"But Professor!" I could just picture Snape's face if I showed up with a preggers cat. "She's queening!"

That got her to stop immediately, and she relaxed. "I can see why you wouldn't want to take this to Professor Snape. Very well, come in."

McGonagall's office, like Snape's, had two doors in, one from the classroom, and one from the hallway, and another door out, presumably headed for her private quarters. But there the resemblances ended. My eyes hurt from all the tartan.

"I have a birthing box around here somewhere," she said vaguely. "Who's the tom?"

My stress over Whisper came to a crashing halt when I realized that I had no clue. "Big, ginger, looks like he had a bad encounter with a wall once," I said eloquently.

She smiled, Summoning a box that was piled with newspapers. "That's Miss Granger's cat, Crookshanks. Here, I'll take her." McGonagall held out her hands, and, reluctantly, I passed over Whisper. "You at least had the good sense to carry her right; I've seen one too many queens injured because their owners didn't know what they were doing."

I winced slightly. "I knew what happened, I just wasn't sure what to do once she actually began – I've done my research!"

McGonagall laughed quietly, laying Whisper down on the newspapers. "It's a bit of a shock, the first time. Unless you want to be doing this every year or so for the next fifteen, I'd suggest getting a Spaying Potion." She rolled Whisper onto her back and began gently palpitating her stomach. "If all goes well, you'll have four new kittens in a few hours."

"Four?" My voice ranged several octaves. This also had slipped my mind – ie, dealing with new-born kittens.

She smiled, running a finger along Whisper's belly. "It's rather a small litter, but for a first-time mum, she's doing really well." There was a pause as Whisper began spasming. "And there we go." McGonagall's hands slipped under Whisper's tail and lifted out a tiny kitten, carefully peeling off the amniotic sac.

My heart melted. It was tiny, maybe as long as the palm of my hand, with eyes pinned shut, and tufts of white fur sticking up at odd angles. Its nose, ears, and feet were covered in fur so light I could see the pink skin underneath. I was in love.

"Nice healthy tom," McGonagall said, raising him to her face and neatly severing his umbilical cord, before setting him down near Whisper's nipples.

I couldn't do anything but stare at the little spark of life making its first movements.

The second kitten, born some fifteen minutes later, was a female, covered in black and brown fur, shorter than the male's. She was placed next to him, as McGonagall dove back for the third.

"She's certainly not taking her time with these ones," she said. "Good. Means no problems."

The third was another female, with long white fur like the first one.

The fourth was a solid black male.

McGonagall smiled down at the new family. The kittens were all suckling happily while Whisper licked them. "I assume that you've done some research into how to care for them?"

"Whisper'll take care of most of it," I said quickly, "but I'll need to spay or neuter them before _they_ start happily making kittens."

She snorted. "You've been spending too much time with Severus. Correct, however. I would recommend purchasing extra food starting around the end of November. And you would do well to keep in mind that their father is a half-Kneazle; expect odd behaviour."

I blinked. "Oh dear."

McGonagall beamed at me. "And if you need suggestions for places for them…" She trailed off suggestively.

"I have some ideas." Although McGonagall had now moved substantially higher up on that list. Very, very carefully, I lifted the box and made my way back to the dormitories. No one else was in our room; I trusted them enough to know that the other girls were unlikely to kill or otherwise harm the kittens to hurt me; and the odds of Whisper allowing anything to happen to them was minute. Thus prepared, I went up for breakfast.

* * *

><p>I announced the presence of kittens at breakfast, and was immediately overwhelmed with name options. I put my foot down, however, and said that I was going to name them myself. The discussion promptly degenerated into one over who had the best pet – either me or Draco – and the worst, combined with the constant griping from Blaise, whose mum wouldn't let him bring a pet. It was Sunday, fortunately, which meant that all the third years, together with a generous amount of second and fourth years, trooped down after the meal to ooh and aw over the kittens. Whisper tolerated this for a while, but eventually gave me a look that said quite clearly 'either you get rid of them, or I will.' Getting everyone to leave the new mother alone took a while, but finally I was able to replace the box at the foot of my bed.<p>

Then it was time to talk to Snape.

"I did not expect you today."

No, I hadn't planned the visit either. "Sir, my cat, Whisper, she just had kittens."

He gave me a look over his Potions magazine. "And?"

"We're only supposed to have one pet."

His voice was dry. "Do I look like I care?"

That answered that question. I left the room, trying to figure out why I'd even bothered.

* * *

><p>Of course, I was expected to provide names for all the kittens. Useless suggestions – some amusing, some obscene, and a few both –were provided throughout the day. By curfew, I had three, and was just looking for a fourth.<p>

Which was, of course, when Blaise, who had been fairly quiet throughout all this, decided to intervene. "Name it Noah."

I blinked. "Why?" It didn't fit with the other names.

He shrugged. "Mum used to tell me a story, to get me to go to sleep. It was called Noah the Fairy Cat."

And the sense level of this conversation just dropped to near-zero. "Blaise, you're not actually explaining anything."

"It was a good story. Noah helped defeat a bad wizard, and it was the only one Mum ever told me. All the rest I heard from nannies."

Either Blaise was remarkably good at guilt-tripping, or he didn't know he was doing it. Sighing, I pulled out the scrap of parchment I was writing names on. "Fine. Noa."

"It has an h in it."

I ignored him, reasoning that if he was going to force me to name one of my kittens, he would just have to live with the fact that it wasn't spelled to his satisfaction.

Monday morning, just before classes, I gathered everyone in the Common Room to announce the names. "This one," I said, holding up the long furred male, whose extremities were beginning to darken to chocolate brown, "will be Aslan."

Putting Aslan down – none of the kittens were immensely pleased with this event – I picked up the shorthaired female, fur a patchwork of dark brown lines and pale ginger background. "This one is Squire."

The longhaired female, still pale, but with her points edging towards a patchy brown and black became Faithful, while the black shorthaired male was Noa.

* * *

><p>Life continued on as normal, although with the addition of four rambunctious kittens and a NEWT level charm to my already-hectic schedule. Snape's reaction to the Patronus Charm was unique.<p>

"Unlike all of the other spells," he drawled, looking more than usually sadistic, "I will not be demonstrating this one to you."

My mouth, once again, was light-years ahead of my brain. "Can you cast it?"

He gave me a steady look, but declined to answer. I took this to mean that either he couldn't cast it and didn't want to admit to weakness, or that he _could_ but that the form was either embarrassing or incriminating. "The incantation is _Expecto Patronum,_ which I presume you will have little trouble with. However, in order for it to succeed, you need to have firmly in mind a happy memory." His jaw pulsed, and I guessed that it was the memory that was the problem for him, one way or another. "You may attempt it now."

I drew my wand steadily. It probably wouldn't work this time, but no point in inviting fate. With the image of Snape demonstrating magic for the first time in place, I said clearly, "_Expecto Patronum."_

Energy surged out of me, but nothing happened. Suddenly weak, I sat down on the floor.

"Good," Snape said, handing me chocolate. "I will not present you with a dementor until you can produce something corporeal; unlike some, your boggart will not be helpful."

This brought to mind a question I'd had since Potter fell off his broom. "Sir, if Potter's boggart is a dementor, is it going to produce the same effects? That is…"

He cut me off. "Does a boggart's form produce the same magical results as the actual fear? To some degree, yes. If your boggart was a dementor, you would feel cold and hear your worst memory; however, the boggart would not be able to remove your soul. Similarly, the Death Eater that is your boggart," I hated it when he did that, "will be able to speak incantations and produce bolts of light, but none of them will be viable spells."

I relaxed. That had been a worry in the back of my head. Finishing off the chocolate, I stood carefully. Raising my wand, and firmly thinking of the sheer joy from knowing that I was _special_, I said, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

The rush of energy; the lack of effect.

"Try a stronger memory," Snape suggested. "How did you feel when you first saw the kittens?"

I hadn't realized that was an option. Placing the wonder and amazement and awe at those tiny bodies in the forefront of my mind, I yelled, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

Something silver burst out of my wand, pulling my energy with me. It vanished promptly, diffusing into air, and the energy drain stopped.

"Very good," Snape told me, an unheard of compliment for him. "We will stop for the day. The Patronus Charm is complex and temperamental; the energy drain is huge, and at no point will we be casting it more than three times in one day."

I gave him a dizzy but satisfied look, before hauling myself to my feet – when had I sat down? –and heading back to my dorm. Bed was calling.

* * *

><p>The last weekend of term combined several exciting events. The train to London was due to leave Monday morning, and, as if in reward, we had a Hogsmeade trip that Saturday. In addition, Snape had scheduled a lesson for Sunday afternoon, saying that he had an idea that should get me past "your incomprehensible block." Admittedly, in the six weeks since I had begun working on the Patronus Charm I had yet to progress past a fuzzy silver glow and had run out of new happy memories to try.<p>

The Hogsmeade trip went well. Blaise, Theo, and I covered the rest of town, resulting in our spending more than half the trip in Honeydukes purchasing candy. I got Hanukkah presents for my family, thinking that they would be more amused by Fizzing Whizbees and Jelly Slugs than by traditional gelt.

Crawling into bed that night to sleep off a sugar high, I determinedly ignored the sounds of Tracey and Millicent giggling hysterically over some word they'd written in Elder Futhark. The next morning, I wasn't in a great mood to begin with – it turned out that if you drank enough Butterbeer, it _would_ give you a hangover, even without the other effects of being drunk – and it only got worse when I had to leapfrog over unconscious Slytherins who hadn't bothered to make it to their dorm rooms.

Which made it all the more odd to enter Snape's private office and find him smiling – _smiling_ – at me.

"You are one of _the_ best students I have taught in over ten years here," he said, his voice quiet and earnest. "You are currently on par with the OWL level students, and, with some effort, could easily equal the sixth years."

That was… extremely unexpected. "Really?"

He smirked. "Yes. Now cast the charm."

Oh. I swallowed, trying not to grin obnoxiously or burst into tears. Snape thought I was good. _Snape_ thought _I_ was _good_. "_Expecto Patronum!"_

The silver cloud burst out of my wand, coalesced into something large and four-legged, and promptly vanished. Unlike all the other times, though, the energy drain continued.

Snape, to my unending surprise, first smiled, and then, at my confusion, actually _laughed_. Not loudly, and not for long, but it was definitely a laugh. "End the spell, Miss Levine."

I dropped my wand, panting. Something had gone wrong, yet I felt more energetic than I usually did after casting the Patronus Charm. A sneaking suspicion burned in the back of my brain. "Did – did you lie to me?"

He laughed again, the action lighting up his eyes. "No. Would I have told it to you had you not had this block on the charm, probably not. But it was all true. And, you succeeded brilliantly. You have not seen anyone die, have you?"

Even for Snape, that was a remarkably sudden subject change. "No, but what does that have to do with me?"

"Your patronus, Miss Levine, is a thestral, a magical creature that is only visible to those who have seen death."

I started. That was immensely creepy, far more so than I thought applied to me.

He smiled gently, an odd expression coming from him. "Thestrals are loyal, clever, diligent, inquisitive, and defensive of their own territory. They have an astounding sense of direction; can lift twice their own body weight; will protect to the death anything they are told to; and are astoundingly magical. Which part of this do you think you disagree with?"

Put like that, it did sound like me, except for the direction bit. "But – death?"

"Thestrals have a connection to death – they will stand vigil over the body of one of their herd – and you are missing the point."

I gaped at him briefly. "Sorry sir, but what was the point?"

Snape pointed at me. "The point, Miss Levine, is that you successfully cast the Patronus Charm at the age of thirteen."

I felt my face turning bright red. "Thank you," I muttered in a direction approximating his location.

He snorted. "Have a good break. We will resume duelling when you return."

Still flushed, I left the room.

* * *

><p>The train home was empty enough that Blaise and I were the only ones in our compartment.<p>

"I've waited long enough,"Blaise said once the train began moving. "Why are you so far ahead?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry about the delay, but I've been out of town for a week with no wireless! Got plenty of writing done –i.e. 16000 words – though, so that worked out alright. I **_**should**_** be able to post once a week until September 20****th**** (which is when I move in), but I'm not making any promises. Sorry!**

**On the rune in the last chapter (which no one asked me about): It is mannaz, which represents man, and intelligence, and a bucket-load of other Sarah-like qualities. In this instance, Snape is using it to mean "this student."**

**On duelling in general: About half of it is based off of modern day fencing, a bit comes from actual duelling (albeit with swords and revolvers), and the rest is all me.**

**On my new spells: **_**Lux**_** means light, because I needed a light spell other than **_**lumos**_**. **

**On CPR: All mine.**

**On Hogsmeade: HP-Lexicon's Hogsmeade map, and the harrypotter wiki were invaluable for this. I checked most of the stores and they are substantiated either a) in the books, b) in Pottermore, or c) by Word of God. All the rest are from the films. None of it I made up.**

**On Tristan Zabini: Still don't know where he came from, but most of you (especially Gray Fedora, who was first) were right; Tristan was nephew to King Mark of Cornwall, and was deeply in love with Mark's wife, Iseult, who was in love with both of them. Voila, tragedy. I **_**still **_**have no clue how this is relevant.**

**On the kittens: I know where they all are going.**

**On Sarah's Patronus: As the fic progresses, you'll see how much thestral really suits her; for now, be content with I know what I'm doing, and a plot point rests on it. Also, I think they're really awesome, under-valued (in fan fiction) creatures. And I drew one in History class, but that isn't relevant.**

**On Tristan Zabini: Still don't know where he came from, but most of you (especially Gray Fedora, who was first) were right; Tristan was nephew to King Mark of Cornwall, and was deeply in love with Mark's wife, Iseult, who was in love with both of them. Voila, tragedy. I still have no clue how this is relevant.**

**On the kittens: I know where they all are going.**

**On Sarah's Patronus: As the fic progresses, you'll see how much thestral really suits her; for now, be content with I know what I'm doing, and a plot point rests on it. Also, I think they're really awesome, under-valued (in fan fiction) creatures. And I drew one in History class, but that isn't relevant.**

**On CHALLENGES: Gray Fedora won, because they were first. Also, you still have a cameo to tell me about, for correctly guessing the number of kittens (no burrito, though). And the new challenge:**

**Three of the four kitten names have relevance. Which ones, and what are they from?**

**As always, the closer you are, the better you do. (ie, two correct kittens beats out one, but loses to three) And if you already got a cameo, you won't get another one for this.**

**And finally: I am on track for this chapter, both in length and events! Yay!**


	18. A Secret, a Death, and a Cat

**A/N: It's only a **_**bit**_** late. :) Next one up on the 8th.**

**Thanks to: Gray Fedora, Loves to read books, MyPatronusIsAPineMarten, ShearViscosity, Honoria Granger, and dramaqueen1917.**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm: **_**Honestly? Does anyone **_**really**_** think this is mine?**

* * *

><p><em>In the previous episode: The train home was empty enough that Blaise and I were the only ones in our compartment.<em>

"_I've waited long enough,"Blaise said once the train began moving. "Why are you so far ahead?"_

I groaned. "Really? Now?" I bent and let Whisper and her kittens out of the crate. The door to our compartment was latched closed so I wasn't afraid of them wandering off and getting lost.

He snorted. "If I don't ask now, you'll slip away again."

"Fi-ine-e," I whined. Of course, now I had to figure out what to tell him. "I – I wanted to be prepared in case the Dark Lord wasn't – wasn't actually dead."

Blaise stared at me. "You're _wha'_? Wait. You're teaching yourself advanced spells so that _if_ the Dark Lord returns, you can – what?"

_Oh Merlin_. I hadn't planned to tell him this, to show him the locked door of my secrets. "So that _when_ he returns, I can…" I ducked my head, refusing to meet his eyes. "Fight him."

He leaned back in his seat, dark eyes staring at me. "So. You declare yourself now." Blaise shook his head. "You're daft, to take a side so soon."

I grunted, preferring not to say anything. Not when so much lay at stake.

Blaise laughed quietly. "You're teaching yourself advanced spells. That's where you keep disappearing to; you've got somewhere to practice."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

"Alright." He shrugged. "It won't change anything _unless_ the Dark Lord comes back. But it explains a lot about you."

I swallowed. "So you're just going to leave it like that?"

He snickered, grinning. "Yep. Bugs you, doesn't it?"

I shook my head, starting to smile. My hands trembled from stress. "What about you? What are you hearing when you see the dementors?" Funny how I didn't get any of the stress reactions until _after_ the stressful situation.

It was Blaise's turn to blanch and look away. "I –I've told you a bit about my mum."

I nodded, waiting for him to continue on.

"She's been married a bunch, and – and when she's – when she's done with them – they don't walk out. I – I was six. And – I didn't like him, but it – they were yelling, first. That's what I hear, and then her curse. And then silence." He was shaking, eyes wide. "My – my boggart. It's her – Mum about to do – do the same to me."

I stared in shock. Never had I imagined _anything_ like this. "I – I'm sorry." There were no other words I could use.

Blaise was silent, staring blankly out the window. "I – I don't hate her. Some – some days I love her, or I think I do. It's too confused. Too mixed up." He stopped and closed his eyes. A glittering tear rolled down his cheek. That seemed to be the first, because he quickly tucked his chin and began crying in silent, shaking sobs.

"Blaise," I said quietly. Giving up on the words that would not come, I crossed the compartment to sit next to him. Tenderly, trying not to cry myself, I wrapped him in a hug. "I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you, 'kay? I'm right here for you."

He leaned into my grasp. "I – e'eryone talks 'bout their mum's. And mine's just a joke. An' – an' I want so bad, so damn bad to be able to – I'm afraid of her. But – but she sits by me at night, an' strokes my hair, an' I think she loves me, but she loved _them _too, so that's no help." Blaise shook in my arms, tears pouring down his face.

I didn't know what to say, and stuck with rubbing one hand over his back. Whisper meowed quietly, and I glared down at her. Inspiration struck, and I pulled away from Blaise briefly.

"Sarah?" He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Did I – are you?"

Bending down, I picked up Squire, who protested loudly. "I thought you'd like a kitten. This is Squire. She's all spayed and weaned, but she hasn't learned to hunt yet, so I'll hand her over to you after break. Gives you time to get supplies too."

He sniffed again and stared at me. "For me? All mine?"

I remembered vaguely that Blaise didn't have any pets. "Yes. All yours."

Blaise took Squire from my hands. "You're cute," he told her. Giving me a tearful smile, he said, "Thank you. I – no one's ever done this for me – you didn't have to."

I forced a laugh out. "What else would I do with _four_ kittens?"

He laughed shakily, and the drama was over.

* * *

><p>I 'encouraged' Whisper and her kittens back into their crate as the train came to a stop, and managed to slip out the gate before Blaise. Mum and Dad knew there were kittens – I never stopped thanking every god I knew for Catherine – so they were mostly prepared to have me fly into their arms, hands full of trunk and crate and cats.<p>

By the time we got home, the cats were thrilled to be let out, and I was ready to sleep. Mum called me to her room first though.

"Sarah. You're thirteen now."

I blinked and sat down on her bed. "Yes."

She smiled. "You haven't changed a bit. We've already put off your Bat Mitzvah for a year. By the time you come home for summer hols, it'll have been two."

Oh. That. I hadn't been thinking about the Bat Mitzvah at all, so it was probably a good thing that Mum was reminding me of it. "So I should take a Torah with me and prepare, then?"

Mum laughed at my reluctant tone. "Rabbi Isaac is being very generous in allowing a dispensation for kosher and in allowing the delays. Let's not push it, alright?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes Mum," I said in the tone of teenagers everywhere.

She laughed again. "I'm glad to see that even though you're a witch, not much has changed with puberty. Now I think your kittens are terrorizing Charlie again."

Sure enough, I could hear poor Charlie's yelps as four rambunctious kittens attacked his tail. Sighing, I went to rescue the dog.

* * *

><p>Hanukkah came and went. I got, among other presents, a copy of the Torah and a renewal of my subscription to the <em>Daily Prophet.<em> On the morning of the 25th, I found a bottomless ink pot from Theo that was enchanted to change colours when you tapped it, and a set of everlasting hand warmers from Blaise, along with a note that was full of praise for Squire.

I had sent them books, of course: Blaise had gotten _Behind the Broom: The History of Wizarding Britain's Most Famous Invention, NOW with Three NEW Chapters on Quidditch Balls_, a special edition I had picked up for half-price in Seattle, while Theo got _Paint By Numbers: the Basic Spells Required to Make Any Painting_ _Move_. I'd seen his interest in the paintings at Hogwarts, and the resulting displeasure when he found that the library didn't carry any books on enchanting artwork.

The cats had settled in fairly well, although as the kittens grew up, Whisper began bringing home life prey. Several times Mum called me downstairs to take out mouse skulls, along with a comment about how there was a _shockingly_ large number of mice around.

The most exciting bit of the whole break was the day before I was due to leave. The kittens were hanging out in my room, and Whisper came in with a mouse in her jaws as usual. I sat up abruptly, however, shocked out of Tamora Pierce's _Lioness Rampant_, when I saw the mouse _move_.

I dropped the book. "Whisper!" Rationally, I knew that my cats ate small animals, and that they killed the vast majority of their food themselves. Rationally, I knew that this meant some animals would die. _Rationally_, I knew that this had to happen for predators to survive. _Realistically_, I had never had to see this in action, and was shocked silent by the sight of my cat – the one who curled up, purring, on top of the book I was reading every night – laying a bloodied mouse on the floor in front of her kittens and wait for one of them to pounce.

Faithful stalked up to the poor thing and peered down at it, whiskers twitching. Suddenly he leaped, going vertical and landing with all four feet squarely in the middle of the mouse's back. The _crack_ echoed around the room.

I stared, eyes pinned to the mock hunt, as the mouse squealed and thrashed its head. Faithful glanced at Whisper, who stepped back. With a savagery that was as sudden as it was astonishing, she shot her head down and tore at the mouse's neck. Blood spurted everywhere. I yelled and jumped back, but still could not pull my eyes away.

The mouse squealed one last time, and then dropped its head. Its eyes closed. The kittens all closed in, tearing.

I had to take a deep breath to keep from crying. The mouse was dead. It had been killed in front of me. I hadn't ever seen _anything_ die, unless you counted bugs, and I didn't think those really mattered. Was there a Mrs Mouse sitting somewhere, waiting for her husband to return, he who never will? Or a string of babies, about to starve to death, because their mother had been eaten by a string of kittens?

Gone. Never to return. That was what death meant. It was the point of no return, the point at which a life left this world for somewhere else. Did mice have souls? I didn't know, but what could separate a mouse from a man? If not the soul, then what? And soul or not, was the life of a mouse really worth so little?

Swallowing heavily, I yelled, "Mum, do we have anything to get blood out of carpets?"

* * *

><p>The return to school went as normal. I handed Squire off to Blaise, who by all accounts had spent the entire break wearing his mum down on the subject of pets. He told me in an aside that she had <em>dealt with<em> her last husband, but wasn't planning on marrying again. Classes began quickly, assigning –in everyone else's view – far too much homework, and expecting us to remember everything we had been taught the previous term. My classmates whinged. I was in heaven.

The first Tuesday after we came back, I entered Snape's quarters with an odd request. "Sir? Is it possible – could our sessions, just one day a week, be a little shorter? Please?"

Looking at me, over his desk, Snape raised one eyebrow. "Why?"

I glanced down and shuffled my feet. "I – er – My bat mitzvah will be held this summer, and I – well – I would like time to study for it, but I don't – I don't think it would be a good idea to use the Time-turner any more. Than I already am."

His face softened. "Holding it a bit late, are you?"

I blinked at the display of Jewish law. "Yes, sir. My parents –"

"That's just fine, Miss Levine. Wednesdays will be a shorter day. Will you require a copy of the Torah?" He closed the book he was reading and gave me the full impact of his gaze.

My mouth dropped open briefly. "You have your own, sir?"

He smiled. "I own a number of unconventional texts."

_Means yes_. "Thank you for the offer, but I brought a copy with me."

Snape nodded. "I expected no less. I want you to try the Patronus Charm again."

"Sir?"

He gave me a steady glare. "Just do it, Miss Levine. Remember what I told you before. It still holds true."

I took a deep breath. Remember, he said. _You are one of the best students I have taught in over ten years here. You are currently on par with the OWL level students, and, with some effort, could easily equal the sixth years. _I was ready. _"Expecto Patronum!_"

Brilliant white light. It lit the room for a moment before coalescing. I had seen this before, and for a moment my thoughts faltered.

"Keep it strong, Sarah."

I almost dropped my wand entirely. Snape had never used my given name before. Which meant something had changed. I focused my thoughts – _he likes what I'm doing, he thinks I'm smart – _and channelled power down my wand.

And suddenly she was there: fine-boned head, on top of a long neck that connected to a lean, greyhound body. Silky smooth skin – I didn't know _how_ I knew what it would feel like, but I did – that was stretched over bare bones, no muscle, no cartilage, just beautiful skin and bone. A horse, almost, a skeleton horse that was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen, with a pair of perfect wings that grew smoothly out of her withers.

The spell pulled energy out of me, until I fell to my knees and broke the connection.

"You could see it this time." It was not a question.

I nodded. "Her," I said quietly. I stood, my legs shaking. "She's – beautiful."

Snape smiled, some emotion in his eyes I had never seen before. "They all are, the patronuses. Congratulations; most wizards cannot produce a corporeal Patronus at any age."

I grinned up at him.

He relaxed. "Were you present at a car crash, or did your cat bring home live prey?"

"You knew!" I accused.

He snorted, returning to his desk. "I suspected," he corrected dryly. "You had a cat with kittens; it was no great challenge to guess that one day she would bring home live food. And knowing your personality, you would not only witness it at least once during break, but also care about the animal thus eaten."

I nodded in chagrin. Of_ course_ he knew. "Yes sir."

"You will cast the spell three times every day, whenever you can find the time. When you can produce her instantly and on command, I will take you out to practice on a Dementor in a controlled environment."

I shuddered. "Yes sir."

Snape nodded slowly, a touch of regret in his eyes. "For now, however, we shall duel."

That brought a broad grin to my face. "Yes _sir_!"

* * *

><p>The months passed swiftly. I dealt with all the kittens but one: Aslan went to Theo, who had swallowed his pride one night late in January and asked me, and Faithful went to McGonagall who was absolutely thrilled to get a new cat. Noa remained with me until the beginning of February, when things changed yet again.<p>

The first Saturday in February held the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game, which I did _not_ get dragged to. Instead I spent the time in the dungeons with Snape, running my patronus all around his quarters and getting a feel for how she worked.

The first we knew of the end of the game was McGonagall dragging Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and, of all people, Marcus Flint down to the dungeons and throwing open the classroom door. Fortunately, Snape's wards went off at that point, and I had time to end the spell and dive under his desk. No need to complicate the matter now.

As Snape disabled the wards, letting the professor in, I listened carefully.

"Severus! This has _got_ to stop, this insane rivalry between your students and mine!" Definitely McGonagall.

"Minerva, I cannot prevent stupidity, merely attempt to allay it. However, is this really a discussion to hold with the malcontents in view? Messrs Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint, wait in the classroom." Snape.

There was the sound of shuffling feet, and the door closed.

"Good. Miss Levine, if you would be so kind."

I blinked, but if Snape wanted me to come out now, who was I to question? Hesitating slightly, I slid out from under his desk and stood up, straightening my robes.

"Miss Levine!" McGonagall said in shock. "Severus, have you _finally_ taken an apprentice?"

He gave her a steady look. "Not in so many words."

My heart about burst with pleasure.

Snape shot me a glare before returning his attention to McGonagall. "What has Lord-heir Malfoy done now?" He was pissed off, I could tell, and at Draco; Snape _never_ used titles unless he was severely displeased.

"Attempted to throw the game," McGonagall replied. "Got any sherry down here? I badly need a drink after that debacle."

I tried to stifle a laugh. Snape gave me another glare, this one milder. "After supper, Minerva. And what precisely did he do?"

McGonagall sighed – at the refusal of the drink, I assumed. "Dressed himself and his cronies – and Mr Flint, which I find fascinating – as Dementors and ran out onto the field directly before Mr Potter caught the snitch."

"Of course he did," Snape muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose, although whether he was referring to Draco or to Potter was unclear. "That idiot! Why is he in _my_ house, he should be in _yours_!"

I sincerely hoped the silencing wards were still up, otherwise Draco was learning _far_ more of his godfather's opinion than he probably wanted to know.

The Transfiguration Professor chuckled. "His _father_," she mocked. "How else does Mr Malfoy do anything?"

"I'll give you that. Their punishment?" Snape said wearily.

"Fifty points from Slytherin and two weeks detention for each of them. From me." McGonagall's face still held humour, though it was subdued.

"Make it a hundred. I _don't _want to see this again. Maybe he'll learn something from this." Snape fell into his desk chair, groaning. "I should retire. Shouldn't have stayed here to deal with Lucius' _bloody_ offspring."

That was far more blatant than I'd _ever_ heard Snape get. I stared at him.

McGonagall laughed outright. "The day you retire will be the day you die. You _like_ your job."

"Parts of it," Snape corrected. "I like parts of it. Miss Levine, perhaps you could demonstrate which parts I like."

I blinked and drew my wand. "_Expecto Patronum!_" It was almost normal to see the silver thestral burst out of my wand and canter around the room, wings outspread. _Almost._

McGonagall burst into a grin. "Congratulations, Miss Levine. This makes you the second student this year to successfully cast a Patronus Charm."

I frowned, letting the spell dissipate. "Who's the first?"

"Mr Potter cast a corporeal patronus on the field this afternoon," McGonagall said, her pride in her student evident.

Snape laughed quietly. "Miss Levine succeeded on the day before Christmas break."

McGonagall visibly deflated. "Ah. Then additional congratulations for your success are in order. Severus, drinks after supper?"

"Yes," he said dryly. "Miss Levine, the wards will flash green when it is safe for you to leave."

He left his office for the classroom, presumably to finish chewing out Draco, and McGonagall followed. I waited patiently, not touching anything in the room, for them to finish and leave the room.

It seemed to take forever, but from a Watch Charm, it was only five minutes, before the wards flashed a brilliant green, and I left for Slytherin house.

* * *

><p>"He asked me to help."<p>

I nodded. "Of course he did, but you said no, right? You weren't out there."

Theo nodded. "I told him no, that it was too dangerous."

"So what's the problem?" I asked, still wondering why Theo had come up to me after supper.

He shrugged. "I thought you'd want to know."

I nodded slowly. He was right, I did want to know that Draco was trying to get Theo to help him. "So he got Flint instead."

He nodded again. "If I'd joined, he was dropping hints about including Blaise."

"Not me, though?"

Theo grinned, a good sign. "Not even Draco's that stupid. You're neutral, even more so than Blaise."

It was a good thing I'd had three years of practice with keeping my masks up in all situations, or else I would have broken down laughing. _Me_ neutral? They were insane. "Good. I don't need anything more in my life."

He laughed outright. "You're already insane, for all the classes you're taking."

I relaxed into our normal banter as Blaise came and joined us.

* * *

><p>The rumours had reached even Slytherin house by the end of breakfast the next morning. Black had gotten into the castle again, and had been seen in Potter's dorm. Since it was Sunday, I went straight from breakfast to Snape's office.<p>

"What is it about Quidditch matches here?" I asked rhetorically.

Snape gave me a look. "Miss Levine, would you happen to know why there is a _cat_ in my quarters?"

I gulped. "No?" I could guess, though. Whisper tended to stay out of warded areas, but Noa had figured out how to get through wards, and was adventurous besides.

He raised an eyebrow. "I believe it is _your_ cat: black, male, young?"

I could feel myself shrinking. "Yes sir, that's Noa."

Snape nodded slowly. "I take it you have not yet found a home for him."

"No sir, I have not," I said, entirely unsure where this was going.

He suddenly smiled. "I am under the impression that Noa has chosen his own home, considering I have had to remove him from my quarters seven times in the past ten days."

I winced. "'M sorry, sir. I didn't know that he was doing that. I'll try to keep him in more."

"Don't," he said, surprising me. "If I had had a problem with him, I would have brought the matter to your attention before now. As it is, however… Are you averse to giving Noa to me?"

I hadn't seen that coming. "No, not at all! I have some supplies – bed, dry food, things like that – I dunno what you have –"

He laughed quietly. "Whatever you are willing to give will be fine. I have been looking for a new cat."

Yet again, hadn't seen that coming. "A _new_ cat?"

"I had an old queen who died a few summers ago, and never really got around to replacing her." Something echoed deep within his eyes. "Was there something else you wanted?"

I blinked at the sudden subject change. "Ah – Black broke in again? Do you think Professor Lupin had anything to do with it?"

He gave me a darkly sardonic look. "I thought I told you to stay out of these problems."

"Because that worked so well the past two years!" I burst out, irked that he would so easily dismiss my worries.

Something pulsed in Snape's jaw. "This year we have matters under control. Thank you for the gift of your cat, but _is that all_?"

I shuddered. "Yes sir. Lessons as normal on Tuesday?"

He relaxed, slightly. "Yes, Miss Levine."

I left hurriedly, trying to figure out why the mere mention of Sirius Black pushed so many of Snape's buttons.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, that was fun! Lots of important character interaction, and we still managed to cover six weeks. Chapter notes: the Jewish minutia is correct, to the best of my knowledge. The line, "Mum, do we have anything to get blood out of carpets?" comes straight out of my life, although it was the family dog and a bad toenail clipping that was the cause of it. I have a picture of a thestral to show you all, but I do not have a scanner, so you'll have to wait. For those of you who are horse-nuts in addition to being HP-nuts, my image of a thestral is a lot like an Akhal-Teke with wings. **

**Sarah can see thestrals now because she saw death, even if it was **_**only**_** a mouse. Harry watched Cedric die (book 4), but couldn't see them until the start of book five because he needed the summer to "understand death." (So says Word of God) I assume that with the proper point of view, it could work in the other direction – i.e. with a strong dose of sympathy, not have to see a **_**human**_** die to see thestrals.**

**Noa, Snape's cat, is a cameo for my good friend and occasional beta, Noa Alexandra, who asked for this. On the topic of cats: a Siamese queen and a ginger (tabby/orange) tom can produce the given four coats. They can also produce another twenty-eight, so I had my pick. Name origins, in order of most frequently guessed correct:**

**Aslan – Chronicles of Narnia, property of C.S. Lewis and his estate.**

**Faithful – Song of the Lioness quartet, property of Tamora Pierce.**

**Squire – Squire Julian Gingivere (okay, so I cheated a bit!) from **_**Redwall**_**, property of Brian Jaques and his estate. I (and Sarah, in-fic) realized that I had four male kitten **_**names**_**, and an equal split of male and female **_**kittens**_**. Faithful was appropriately gender-neutral, but Squire had to be edited. Noa was out because she (in real life) wanted to be male (in the fic). Everyone clear now?**

**I thought about Salem, which would be nice and appropriate and **_**female**_**, but the TV series began (according to Wikipedia) in 1996. And I would like to **_**try**_** to keep this in the correct years.**

**Cameo goes to ShearViscosity.**

**New Challenge!**

**I quote – well, slightly paraphrase – a movie in the **_**body**_** of this chapter – i.e. not the author's notes. What's the quote, and what movie? (Note: It was filmed after 1993, sorry about that!)**


	19. A Dementor, a Hat, and a Fire

**A/N: It's late. Sorry? Oh, and there's some mild language in here, and a wee bit of violence if you look closely.**

**Thanks to: justanotherweasley77 and MyPatronusIsAPineMarten**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm: **_**I blame it all on Doctor Who and the American presidential campaigns.**

* * *

><p>"Tonight we will be doing something different," Snape said dryly, locking the door to his classroom behind us.<p>

I nodded, not entirely surprised. "And what would that be?"

He gave me a steady look. "You are ready to attempt the Patronus Charm in the presence of a dementor."

"Oh." I hadn't thought that far – and I really didn't want to go anywhere near one of the terrifying beings.

Snape led the way to the entrance hall. "It will be as safe as is possible."

_I hadn't been worrying about that, but thanks Professor, now I am. _Sighing, I followed him out the door, where another man was waiting. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Good evening, Miss Levine," the Headmaster said genially. "Good evening, Severus."

Snape stiffened. "Headmaster."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in the reflection from the torches. "Shall we head out? Severus, does she know the procedure?"

_Procedure?_ I wondered. It sounded like a medical exam.

Snape sighed, following Dumbledore out to the gates. "While the Headmaster keeps the rest of the dementors away, I will command one to come closer but not attack you. You will either successfully cast the Patronus Charm or you won't. Either way the dementor will then be sent back to its post and we will return to the castle."

I nodded, trying not to stumble in the dark. "Sir, why isn't Potter out here?" It was a problem I'd been turning over in my free time – why on earth was _I_ getting tutored and special treatment and all when none of this was happening to the Boy-Who-Lived?

Snape glanced at Dumbledore. "Because Lupin –"

"Severus," Dumbledore said warningly.

This time, Snape _glared _at Dumbledore. "_Professor_ Lupin believes that Mr Potter is capable and does not need a live test. _Professor _Lupin is of the opinion that Mr Potter does not need to have his studying opportunities disrupted. _I_ would value that opinion more if there was any indication that Mr Potter would actually take advantage of such an opportunity."

Dumbledore gave Snape a stern look but refrained from commenting. I mentally made note that Snape's hatred for Lupin did not seem to have abated as the year went on.

It wasn't hard to tell when we got near the dementors: the ground grew hard and cold, and all the plants were dead.

"Stay here, Miss Levine," Snape told me as we approached the gates. He and Dumbledore shared a glance before they both raised their wands.

Dumbledore, looking more impressive than normal, twisted his wand slightly. "_Patronus maxima!_" From the end of his wand burst two giant silvery phoenixes. Spreading their wings, they took up positions to either side of us. I could immediately feel the air grow warmer.

Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Steeling himself, he shouted, "_Kom til meg, vokter av sjeler, kommer til meg!_" The language was harsh and guttural, like nothing I'd ever heard. "_Jeg bestiller deg ved min makt som en mørk trollmann til å komme til meg!_"

One of the black shapes detached itself from the darkness and began wafting over to us.

Snape continued. "_Stå og ikke angripe uten ordrer!_"

The dementor jerked forward, between the phoenix patronuses, headed for me.

Snape's voice rose in volume. "_Vokter av sjeler, befaler jeg deg å bo og holde din posisjon! Du er min, og vil følge min kommandoer!_"

The dementor stopped, its robes fluttering. There was no wind. Even with the patronuses as aid, the cold was still pressing at me.

The screams started again.

"_Holde fortsatt! Jeg, _Severus Snape_, befaler dere å holde fortsatt!_" Snape yelled, eyes blazing. "Sarah. Remember," he said more quietly.

I did. _You are one of the best students I have taught in over ten years here_. "_Expecto patronum!_"

The silver thestral burst out of the end of my wand. Silently screaming, she charged the dementor, wings spread. The dementor slid backwards. My patronus ran at it, striking out with her forelegs.

"Good!" Snape shouted, a fierce grin on his face. "_Legg igjen oss! Tilbake til innlegget ditt og vokte disse portene!_"

The dementor hissed, but the presence of three patronuses kept it back. Finally it turned away and glided back to its post.

Snape relaxed. Dumbledore, flicking his wand once, banished the two phoenixes. "Well done, Miss Levine," the Headmaster said. "I think that deserves ten points to Slytherin, don't you?"

I thought about pointing out that _Longbottom_ had gotten ten points for being a self-sacrificing moron in first year, and then thought better of it. There wasn't any point as Dumbledore wouldn't change anything, and having the Headmaster like me had to be a good step.

"Severus?" Dumbledore added quietly.

Snape turned towards us, shuddering. "No, I'm not about to go insane; yes, that was hard; no, I haven't been practicing; no, it shouldn't be a problem; and yes, I'll need a moment to settle. Anything else you wanted?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I'm glad to hear that you're alright. And Miss Levine; how are you feeling after that?"

I shrugged, far more preoccupied with Snape's response. "I'm fine. My patronus worked, and the depression'll be going away soon. I don't supposed you'd," I made a vague hand waving gesture towards Snape, "would you?"

The twinkling noticeably increased, even in the darkness. "Severus?"

Snape exploded. "Really, Headmaster? Now? Of all times to announce it, _you_ pick when Black is on the run, about to go resurrect his _master_! Could you have picked a more dangerous moment? Don't answer that! I see – you think I'm too strong, that taking an Apprentice would –"

"_Severus._" Dumbledore moved in front of the raving Potions Master as I backed up nervously. "I trust you completely. If you do not wish a public announcement, we do not have to have one. I can slip the papers into the Ministry and no one will know. I trust you with everything."

"Do _not_ patronize me!" Snape burst out, stumbling back a step and drawing his wand.

Dumbledore followed him. "I am telling you the truth, Severus. I trust you. And because I trust you, I am giving you this warning: You are one spell away from the edge, Severus, one spell away from re-joining him. And there will be no one to pull you back this time. Severus – hold on."

I held my breath, not entirely sure what was happening, but not at all willing to risk it.

Snape jerked away again. Raising his wand, he twitched suddenly before controlling himself. "_Lumos!_" The grounds burst into light.

Dumbledore relaxed. "Thank you, Severus."

"Sir," Snape said, bowing formally.

"More meetings are needed, I think. Have you been having doubts recently?" Dumbledore asked, leading the way back to the castle.

Snape flinched slightly. "Headmaster, I have already communicated my doubts to you and you disregarded them."

Dumbledore looked down briefly. "I do not believe that Remus is behind Black's entry, no. I did not, however, disregard your doubts. I took them into consideration, and have always done so."

"_Headmaster."_ I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I had heard a pleading tone in Snape's voice.

Dumbledore stopped and turned around. "Just because I do not agree with you, does _not_ mean I do not trust you. Now, I believe that Miss Levine is about to explode from curiosity. Perhaps you could explain some things to her?"

Snape swallowed, grudgingly accepting the subject change. "It is tradition, Miss Levine, for an older witch or wizard to take a younger as an Apprentice. If you choose to do so, absolutely nothing would change. You would continue your private lessons, but they would now be sanctioned by the Headmaster and the Ministry, and nothing short of imprisonment or death would be able to stop us. Me. Do you understand?"

I thought about this for a grand total of three seconds. Yes, Snape had lost control out there, far more so than I'd ever seen him do before, but that probably had a lot to do with the surely Dark spell that he had used to control the dementor. "Yes sir. I understand and I agree."

"Headmaster, will you witness this oath?" Snape asked solemnly. I had the sneaking feeling that this was a wizarding tradition even older than duelling.

Standing at the foot of the stairs leading up to the entryway, Dumbledore nodded. "As the Headmaster of this school, I will witness your oath of Mastery."

"I need your hand – the non-dominant one," Snape told me. Somewhat hesitantly, I put out my right hand, palm up. Snape nodded, and placed his wand-tip in the centre of my palm. "I, Severus Tobias Snape, do hereby take Sarah Leah Levine as my Apprentice in the study of Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and the Dark Arts. As such, I vow to teach her until she avows my teaching or until she has achieved no fewer than two Masteries, barring that death and dishonour should come first."

The wand-tip ignited, sending a streak of light around my wrist. When it faded, it left behind a plain silver bracelet, with a single twist in it.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "I thought you would get that one."

I twisted the bracelet around my wrist. "It's a Möbius strip. Why would it be that?" I asked, choosing to focus on the innocuous questions rather than why Snape was going to teach me the Dark Arts.

Snape put away his wand. "Infinity, unity, loyalty. When the bracelet is enchanted with our runes, it can be used to mark you as under my protection."

"Ah," I murmured, echoing Dumbledore. "Lesson tomorrow, sir?"

Snape smirked widely. "Of course, Miss Levine."

* * *

><p>Life returned to normal the next morning at breakfast. I had settled myself next to Theo, and we nudged each other and grinned as Blaise walked in, to sit across from us.<p>

"What the _hell_ is that?" Theo asked, pointing at Blaise – or rather, at Blaise's head.

Blaise looked stunned and a bit annoyed. "It's a hat, stupid."

"'S not," Theo denied. "Looks like something the kneazle dragged in."

Upset, Blaise pulled the grey fedora off his head and waved it in Theo's face. "It's a _fedora_, you moron, it's _supposed_ to look like that!"

Theo stared at it, making a big show of examining the offending object. "'S not pointy enough," he pronounced.

"_Pointy_!" Blaise exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm trying to revolutionize wizarding wear, and you whinge because it's not 'pointy enough.'"

Theo shrugged. "Where'd you even get it anyway? I think you were gypped."

Blaise gaped at him, suddenly turning down the table. "_Pucey!_ What the hell did you sell me, you bleeding bastard?"

I pulled out my wand, trying not to smile, and cast a basic light spell. When Blaise's hat glowed a sickly green, I nodded. "Pucey sold you a cursed hat, Blaise."

"_What?_" Unfortunately for Blaise, his voice cracked in the middle of this. "Pucey, I am _so_ going to _kill_ you!" Of course, Adrian Pucey was a fifth year, which might have made that a bit hard.

I shook my head slowly. "That hat's been cursed to make the wearer unattractive."

Blaise looked at me blankly. "Well – what am I supposed to do? Draco, wanna hat?" he called out.

Draco, who had been halfway paying attention, shook his head. "Nah. Mum'd kill me if I brought a cursed hat home."

At this point Theo and I lost it, cracking up. Blaise glared at us as he understood. "You _bastards_. You bloody _bastards. _I'm gonna get you for this, I will!"

Struggling to stop laughing, I grinned at Blaise. "I don't see why you're so upset. It's just a hat."

"Just a hat! _Just_ a hat! It's _just_ a hat Pucey charged me three sickles for, it is!"

It took forever to get Blaise calmed down again, but Theo and I thought it was worth it, especially after Theo stole the hat and enchanted it to have _I am gullible_ in large red letters on the front.

* * *

><p>The months passed quickly as June approached. Just before Easter break, Granger lost it – I suspected that she wasn't using her Time-turner to get extra sleep – and punched out Draco, an action I wholly agreed with on a moral level, and wished she could have waited for on a political one as it made him absolutely insufferable for the following two weeks. Potter creamed Draco again in Quidditch – I had to go to this one, unfortunately – which probably contributed to the insufferableness.<p>

The exams went well, at least on my part. I liked the Transfiguration exam, although the Charms one ran into problems when my Cheering Charm worked on the pair to my right instead of on Blaise. Care of Magical Creatures was beyond boring, but Potions was amusing enough. Everything else went fairly well. On the last night of exams, which I noted absently was a full moon, I crawled into bed, exhausted.

The next morning, two things caught my attention: Potter, Granger, and Weasley were missing, yet again, and the rumours flying about the events of the night before were even more fantastic than normal. Ignoring the wild ones about Black sneaking in and flying off on Buckbeak the condemned hippogriff, I glanced up at the High Table. Lupin looked haggard – the moon, I guessed – and Snape looked _furious_.

"Not good," Blaise muttered, gesturing at our Head of House.

I nodded. "Yeah. I'd stay out of his way, if I were you."

He snorted. "You're not gonna, though. Always said you were daft."

"Nope!" I replied cheekily.

A discussion up at the High Table diverted everyone's attention. "So, _Professor_ Lupin," Snape drawled. "How _did_ you find your adventures last night?"

Lupin jumped in surprise. "Er… Just fine, Professor Snape. They – they were just fine."

"I am _so_ pleased. After all these rumours of Sirius Black _marauding_ through the Forbidden Forest… And, of course, _some_ of us heard werewolves last night."

_Oh Snape is pissed._ I could see where this was going – _something _had happened the night before, both Snape and Lupin were involved, and because it was full moon last night, Lupin had been involved as a werewolf. I shrank in my seat, waiting.

Something throbbed in Lupin's jaw. "I am sure that _some_ of you did, Professor Snape. Alas, last night I was ill and not paying overly much attention to my surroundings."

"So I heard," Snape said, smirking nastily. "In fact, the way _I_ heard it, _you_ were one of the werewolves running around last night." Pausing briefly, the smirk grew. "Oops," he said, not a trace of regret on his face, "I wasn't supposed to say that."

There was a collective moment of silence as everyone glanced at each other. Finally Draco stood. "Professor Snape, sir, are you saying that Professor _Lupin_ is a werewolf?"

The hall exploded in noise. Snape just sat there, smirking. It seemed to take forever before Dumbledore stood. "_Silence!_ Everyone settle down. Professor Snape – my office, five minutes. Professor Lupin, my office, fifteen. Now, I would suggest that everyone finish their breakfast, and then we shall have a special Hogsmeade visit." He looked around the room, gestured to Snape, and left via the teachers' door.

I frowned. Now I _really_ wanted to know what had happened the night before. Shoving my eggs into my mouth, I nodded to Blaise and Theo, and left the hall.

Snape walked into his office precisely twelve minutes later to find me sitting at his desk. "Miss Levine," he said coldly.

"Professor. Something interesting happen last night?" I asked, pretending not to be concerned. In reality, I was terrified. I'd never seen Snape so upset.

His eyes flickered around the room. "Duelling room. Now."

I nodded silently and followed him through his private office into the large room where we always duelled. "Sir?" I said as he closed the door behind us, throwing up wards.

"Shut up, Levine," Snape said coldly. "For once in your bloody life, stop asking questions."

I flinched. "Yes sir."

Snape gave me an icy cold glare. "Do not move. Do not say anything. Do not act." His wand flicked out, summoning four of the dummies I'd been duelling against into the centre of the room. It flicked again, giving them faces. Three of them I recognized – Lupin, of course, and Sirius Black, who I knew from the papers, and… Potter? The fourth was a skinny, mousy-haired boy with a thin, pointed face.

The next flick left a gaping red gash across Lupin's chest. Another obliterated Black's arm. A third exploded the whole dummy that was Potter, but the next recreated it whole.

"Sir?" I asked tentatively. "Sir, why are you attacking Harry Potter?"

Face twisted in a grimace, Snape turned on me, wand out. "I told you to _shut up_!" His wand trembled, point wavering madly. "It's not Harry Potter. See? Hazel eyes. Not green. Bloody, bloody green eyes."

I stared alternately at him and at the Potter-dummy. Black was friends with James Potter, and Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew… Lupin was there, and Black, and someone who looked an _awful_ lot like Potter… "Sir – were – were you in school – in the same year as James Potter? And Lupin and Black and Pettigrew?"

Snape twitched, only barely holding on to his sanity. "Yes." His wand flicked out. Lupin's head blew up. Then restored itself. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," I said promptly. I remembered all too well my first experience with a dementor and the conversation that followed.

Snape grinned, which was almost scarier than when he had been scowling. "Good!" From the tip of his wand burst a stream of flames. The flames engulfed the dummies, burning them to ash, before forming a circle around us. "You trust me? Fully and completely? Do not lie, Levine. Do _not_ lie to _me!_"

The flames continued as Snape pointed his wand at my chest. I straightened. The air was almost unbearably hot as the wall of flames closed in. "Yes sir. To the end of the world and back."

The grin grew. "Excellent, Miss Levine." The fire looped and spun, the circle closing in on us. It separated to let me back out hastily, and then closed around Snape. As it cleared slightly, I could see Snape playing with it. His wand clattered on the floor as he raised both hands. The fire flirted around them, engulfing him without burning. He grinned maniacally, shaping the flames into dragons and snakes and phoenixes.

I swallowed, remembering the _rest_ of that conversation. "Sir – Professor Snape – sir, don't! Stop, just stop it now! You're going to lose yourself, it's going to happen like Professor Dumbledore was talking about – remember all those months ago, when you took me to fight a dementor? You're about to lose yourself again!"

It wasn't working. It, in fact, rather manifestly wasn't working. Snape had not reacted to my rant. The shapes were growing more and more bizarre. The phoenixes were being replaced by demons, the snakes were growing larger, and the dragons had mutated entirely into humans that he was methodically crushing.

"Sir – Professor – Severus!"

He started at that, hands stilling on a bearded humanoid that looked astonishingly like the Headmaster. "You – you're tuning on me! You're trying to stop me! _Me!_"

_Damnit, damnit, this isn't working!_ "Severus, Severus, Severus, Sev! Sev, Sev, Sev, _Sev!_"

At that, finally, he stopped. His mouth convulsed around a word – a name? – the slightest whiff of air. "No," he said aloud, calming down noticeably. "Sarah. Not –" He stopped again, pondering something. "Good. Sarah. That's good." Snape blinked at me, finally lowering his hands. "Thank you," he said, somewhat hesitantly.

I blinked. "Ah – you're welcome, sir. Am I allowed to ask questions now?"

Snape stared at me as if he'd never thought about this before. "I need a drink." He picked up his wand, placed it in his robes, and headed for the door.

"Sir?" Normally – well, not that Snape was every _really_ normal – but _normally_, Snape would _never_ say anything like that. _Normally_, if Snape had a problem, he would just tell me to leave, and deal with it himself. And more to the point… "No offense, sir, but you look like you _need_ about fifteen hours sleep."

He shook his head. "Haven't slept in over twenty four hours. I'll catch up later."

I frowned. "Does – could that have something to do with –" I waved my hand around.

"I really need a drink," Snape repeated. He left for the office, where I found him collapsed in a chair, nursing a bottle of whisky.

I pulled out a chair near him, and propped my chin in one hand. "That's twice now this year that you've lost it, and you didn't do it at all my first or second year."

Snape took a very long drink. "I'll tell you next year. Haven't stuck too well to the schedule so far, but I'll be damned if I start that lesson any earlier. January, at the best." He took another.

_Right then_. I tried another tack. "What – what was going on – with Lupin? And last night?"

He froze momentarily and then drained the bottle. "Sirius Black got through the dementors, ran into Lupin, Potter, Granger, Weasley, and I – don't look at me like that, I was only there because Lupin had forgotten to take his damned Weresbane Potion – followed by something that I'm sure was extremely exciting but I don't know about because I was unconscious and the Headmaster has decided that I don't need to know that, followed by, of course, Lupin transforming and almost eating everyone in sight – don't give me that look, I was still unconscious – then the wolf ran off, I took the opportunity to round up the students and capture Black, and then somehow in about thirty seconds, Potter released Black and the hippogriff Draco was stupid enough to condemn. Granger's Time-turner was probably involved. If I knew exactly what happened, I would give you more detail. The Headmaster has decided that apparently Potter was in the right," his lip curled, "and refuses to tell me anything more." He Summoned another bottle.

I gulped. "Oh."

Snape gave me a sloppy smirk. "Go run along with your friends. Have fun over the hols, don't kill anyone – or anything – and lessons will resume in September. If the Headmaster is looking for me, I am drinking myself into insensibility and don't want to talk to anyone. If he insists, tell him that he'd better have a damn good explanation and I want to hear the whole bloody thing. Got that?"

I nodded, watched him down most of the second bottle, and left.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Did I offend some of you, or did real life just attack? I was a bit shocked; the last chapter only got 2 reviews, and I've been averaging 5 reviews per chapter. Not only that, but over 100 of you read the chapter. Did 98 of you _really_ dislike it that much? Or were you just all crazy-busy? **_**Please**_** take the time to review; if I'm seriously screwing things up, I need to know, otherwise I'm just going to keep on doing it.**

**I'm not entirely sure why my 'actual' schedule (as opposed to 'intended') is post every seven days and twelve hours. Hopefully I can get it back on track soon.**

**I **_**will**_** explain what is going on with Snape, but you'll have to wait until fourth year. There **_**is**_** a reason to it.**

**Challenges and Cameos:**

**The entire purpose of the hat scene was to fulfil Gray Fedora's cameo; ShearViscosity, yours should appear next chapter.**

**No one got the movie; **_**means yes **_**is slightly paraphrased from **_**Pirates of the Caribbean**_**, the full quote being: I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Means "no". (From, of course, Captain Barbossa)**

**And for this week: Snape's spell to control the dementor is not in Latin; it is, however, in a real language. What is the language, and what word(s) do(es) Snape use to refer to the dementor? (Many, **_**many**_** apologies to **_**actual**_** speakers of this language; I just used Google Translate)**

**Last of all – REVIEW, please!**


	20. A Sister, a Tournament, and a Mark

**A/N: No warnings for this one, oddly enough.**

**Thanks to (ooh! Nine of you!) - , angel (sign in so I can respond, please!), dramaqueen1917, Xxlillian321xX, MyPatronusIsAPineMarten, maya, Farmin, Gray Fedora, and Xipholynx.**

_**Lawyer Banishing Charm: **_**Given the amount of this that was written while watching **_**Doctor Who**_**, I would not be surprised if my characters have acquired distinctly Tennant-like speech patterns.**

* * *

><p>"Miri!"<p>

"Don't call me that," my sister said sharply. "Honestly, after nine hours on a plane, the last thing I want is my little sister – Oh Sarah." She pulled me into a hug. "Missed ya."

I hugged her back. "Same. Glad you're home."

It took a while to get everyone inside and settled, between suitcases and pets and Chris and Dad getting in the way all the time. Finally we were all in the living room, with me curled up on the floor with Whisper.

Miriam grinned down at me. "Ready for tomorrow?"

I snorted. "Not at all. Would avoid it if I could."

It was Mum's turn to smile. "Everyone has that feeling the day before."

"And the morning of, and the three minutes standing up on the podium waiting for everyone to just shut up, and the five minutes of talking," Miriam interjected. "It's all nauseatingly nerve-wracking, and given the option I would do it again in a heartbeat."

I sneered at her. "But everyone knows you're insane."

Chris laughed quietly. "Is this how your family always acts?"

Miriam smiled. "You met them last summer, didn't you?"

"That's right," he muttered, "doesn't mean I understand them."

I forced a smile out. "Really, guys, I'm fine. I'm ready for tomorrow. I'll just ah – pop upstairs and practice?" I didn't want to be down there, dealing with my sister and her boyfriend who didn't know, who _couldn't_ know about my real life.

Lying on my bed in my room, I flipped my wand around in my hands. With my Bat Mitzvah the next morning, I really should have been practicing, but there was Miriam. I wanted _so_ badly to tell her what was going on, all about the strange, unbelievable things that made up my life, but I had no way to prove it to her. There was a letter sitting on my desk – actually, three copies of a letter, respectively, the second, twelfth, and thirteenth drafts of a letter I had no way of sending to Snape. If I could only get the letter to him, asking for permission to show them, then maybe…

I flopped off the bed, groaning. No such luck. I pulled the paper with my lines for the next morning on it, even though I'd memorized it backwards, forwards, and in both Hebrew and English. I'd even recited it to Snape before leaving school. He'd been almost impressed, for him, although he'd then demanded that I hit fifty bull's-eyes before leaving for the night.

The lines came smoothly from my lips, soft musical cadences older than Rome. Written, according to our faith, by Moses. I would read a portion of the Torah during the services the next day, would start the prayer session. Of course, this being a Reform synagogue, the services would be shorter than normal and would proceed almost immediately to a party.

I recited the prayers again, and then again. It gave me a way to settle and focus. Over and over. Over and over and over again.

* * *

><p>The ceremony went fine. Of course it did, but I'd still been nervous. The party after was painful, but parties weren't my thing. And then – it was over. I was a full adult according to Jewish law and custom.<p>

That I had four more years to wait according to British law, and three for wizarding didn't factor into my excitement. In some places, I was an _adult_! Well – in synagogues, mostly, but hey, that was a start!

The remainder of summer went fairly well until the last Monday of August – and, completely coincidentally, the day of the Quidditch World Cup.

I woke up to a tapping on my window. "What is it about summer?" I muttered, getting up and stumbling over to the blinds.

There was an owl outside, medium sized, medium brown, a medium sized set of ear feathers, completely ordinary in every way. Except for the outsized glare it was giving me, and the parchment attached to its leg.

Sighing, I opened the window and let it in. As I took the paper, the owl settled down on my desk. "Alright," I muttered, "who are you from, then?"

The parchment was actually an envelope, with a wax seal on it: two snakes shaped in double-S, a pair of antlers forming the border. The letter inside was on Muggle paper.

_Sarah Levine –  
><em>_You _have_ to stay inside tonight. You and all your family. I've received word from my friends. Tonight will be dangerous.  
><em>_S. T. Snape  
><em>_P.S. The owl is waiting for a reply_

I grabbed a piece of paper – a piece of _blank_ paper – and a pen.

_Professor –  
><em>_Don't worry, I will. Are these the friends with tattoos? Should I talk to my friends who go to different schools, or is it just me? Is this connected with the World Cup tonight?  
><em>_S. L. Levine  
><em>_P.S. I didn't know you had your own seal._

Handing this to the owl, I closed the window behind it, and clattered down to breakfast. The day went normally, until after lunch, when the owl came back. This was written on the back of my letter.

_SLL –  
><em>_Yes, the same ones; no, they're not in danger; yes, of course it is.  
><em>_STS  
><em>_P.S. A gift from some of those same friends._

I deciphered this with ease: Death Eaters were going to be attacking the Quidditch World Cup tonight, Snape wanted me to stay inside so I didn't make a target of myself, and Snape had, for whatever reason, been issued a seal during his time with the Dark Lord.

_STS –  
><em>_Unrelated question: My sister's here, and I'd like to tell her. Permission to demonstrate?  
><em>_SLL  
><em>_P.S. Why would they give you a seal?_

The owl didn't come back again until just before supper, when it was joined by a companion, this one _huge_, and vaguely russet with darker patches, a teeny beak, and absolutely pitch black eyes.

_SLL –  
><em>_Here. Have an owl so you'll stop wearing mine out. It's a male, he doesn't have a name yet, he's a year old, and don't try to repay me after the cat thing. Permission granted; the papers are on your owl. Officially, your house is now a wizarding residence; your parents are expected to control your magic.  
><em>_STS  
><em>_P.S. A reward. Don't ask why. I have two, since you're curious; one for the friends from earlier, and one for the other side._

I pulled the papers off of the other owl – _my_ owl – and discovering that yes, Snape was right, I could now use magic, but just at home, everywhere else I was still being tracked. I sent my next letter back on my owl, still nameless.

_STS –  
><em>_Thanks. I won't pester you then. Thanks for everything.  
><em>_SLL  
><em>_P.S. What's the other one look like?_

The reply came back that night before I went to bed – apparently my owl was more energetic than Snape's.

_SLL –  
><em>_Once again: BE CAREFUL TONIGHT. You're welcome.  
><em>_STS  
><em>_P.S. The double S, but above a cauldron with a skull in the background. Much more elaborate. Pretentious, even.  
><em>_P.P.S. When you go to Diagon Alley, get a set of dress robes. Nice ones_

I waited to reply until the next morning and after I'd gotten the _Daily Prophet_.

_STS –  
><em>_Anyone I know there? And are they all idiots?  
><em>_SLL  
><em>_P.S. Yeah, doesn't sound like you. I like the other one better.  
><em>_P.P.S. Why?_

Flipping through textbooks, I didn't come up with anything. Inspiration struck as I was going through my fantasy collection. Staring at the owl, bearing Snape's reply – _my_ owl – I smiled. "Miles. That's your name. Miles."

_SLL –  
><em>_A few. We can talk during the school year. Idiots? Possibly. Make that, probably. Again, during the school year.  
><em>_STS  
><em>_P.S. This one is my design. The other was issued to me.  
><em>_P.P.S. Can't tell you; Headmaster's orders. Just do it._

Miles ate a piece of beef off my fingers as I penned my reply.

_STS –  
><em>_During the school year, then.  
><em>_SLL  
><em>_P.S. I can tell. The antlers have a significance then?  
><em>_P.P.S. Okay._

_SLL –  
><em>_Yes. Other things not to ask about.  
><em>_STS_

_STS –  
><em>_Seems to be a lot of those.  
><em>_SLL_

_SLL –  
><em>_Yes.  
><em>_STS_

Miles gave me a glare when I opened the last reply, as if I was demeaning him by making him carry a one word reply from Scotland. Well, Snape probably didn't stay at Hogwarts all year round, but wherever he lived it certainly wasn't close.

By the time we were done with our conversation, it was Tuesday evening. Staring at Miles and my latest reply, I made a decision. "Mum!" I yelled, running down the stairs. "Could you look at this?"

I shoved the papers at Mum, who was standing in the kitchen. "What is this? Ah – oh. Right. Give me a minute." She flipped through the papers. "Your professor must really like you," she said, peering over the papers.

"Teacher's pet, that's me!" I said, grinning.

Mum snorted. "You want to tell your sister, don't you?" she asked seriously. "That's why you got these." She waved the papers.

I nodded, sobering as well. "Yes. Yeah, I do. And Chris, too."

She shrugged. "It's your choice, darling. After dinner would be a good time. But you may want to think about this first."

"I've spent all," I swallowed the next word, "summer thinking about it!" I burst out. "I'm not gonna change my decision now."

Mum smiled. "Alright. If you're certain."

I swallowed and nodded.

* * *

><p>Supper took forever, but when it was done, I stood, gulping. "Um – I've got something to tell you guys. Um…" I searched for words.<p>

"You're gay," Miriam said flatly.

I blinked at her, completely thrown. "What. Wait – no, no, no, no, _no!_ I'm – I'm not – just _no!_"

There was an awkward silence.

I gulped. "I'm a witch."

"A what?" Miriam asked, mouth hanging open. "Mom, is she –" She paused, making a twirling gesture with one hand.

I glared at her. "I'm a witch! And I'm not mad!"

Mum snickered. "You may want to demonstrate, Sarah."

I nodded, drawing my wand. "_You are one of the best students I have taught in over ten years here_. "_Expecto patronum!_"

The thestral leaped out of my wand, shaking her mane. Lighting up the dining room, she cantered around the table before stopping at me. Touching her nose to my hand, she vanished.

Chris gaped at me. "You – but that's not possible! You – just lights and mirrors, it's gotta be."

Dad laughed. "Nice bit of magic there, Sarah, but why don't you try something a bit more substancial?"

I grinned at him, twirling my wand. "_Wingardium leviosa!_" I said, pointing my wand at Chris.

This one took a different sort of power – I wasn't used to levitating two hundred pounds of anything – but I still lifted Chris to a solid two feet above his chair.

"Oh my god," he said, looking down. "It's real!"

I laughed out loud. "Of course it is!"

The rest of the explaining took much longer – as it always seemed to – accompanied by a number of iterations on the same basic theme: Yes, I am in a wizarding boarding school; yes, there is a Ministry of Magic; yes, there are wizarding laws; yes, Mum and Dad do know what I've been up to. Catherine got dragged out of the suitcase to demonstrate how we communicated with each other, and Miles came down to show off to everyone.

I, of course, had already told my parents about him, but with travelling between me and Snape, they hadn't actually seen him yet. They ooh'd and aw'd at him, which made him preen happily.

"You look like an idiot," I told him as he stood flat-footed on the table, feathers sticking out in odd directions. He squawked at me, and, spreading huge wings, flew back to my room.

Miriam sighed. "You know this is a lot to take in, right?"

I nodded. "Yes, I know, but I wanted to tell you. I – I don't like keeping secrets from my family."

Chris groaned. "And I can't tell anyone."

"No one outside this room," I said sadly.

Miriam and Chris shared a glance. "Alright. We're – we need to talk about this, okay? We believe you, but we just need to talk," Miriam said.

I nodded. "Alright. I – I'm going to my room, then." I escaped upstairs.

* * *

><p>I went to Diagon Alley soon after, collecting supplies for Miles and my books for next year, along with a nice set of dress robes – which, for women, turned out to look an awful lot like a dress. Miles insisted that he come along, having a great amount of fun riding on my shoulder. He was large for an owl, but not stunningly so – Draco's was larger – and so while he attracted attention, it wasn't out of the ordinary.<p>

I attracted some looks at Kings Cross, with an owl _and_ a cat, but so many people bent – and broke – the _one pet only_ rule, that no one on the platform cared. I joined a compartment with Theo, Blaise, and Millicent, settled my pets, and pulled out _Alanna – the First Adventure_.

After the train began moving, Blaise got our attention. "Um – my mum likes to have tea with the Minister."

"Does the Minister walk away from it?" I asked quietly.

Blaise grinned – a good sign. "Course. Anyway, he told her a Ministry secret, which she told me, and I'm telling you."

"Get on with it!" Theo yelled.

Blaise made a face at him. "The Triwizard Tournament is coming to Hogwarts this year." He leaned back, satisfied.

Theo frowned, while Millicent flinched. I ran through everything I knew about the Tournament, which admittedly, wasn't much.

"But all those people died last time," Theo said eventually. "Why would they bring it back?"

I was wondering the same thing. Blaise shrugged. "Apparently the Minister thought it would be a good gesture of international cooperation."

"Any particular reason for _now_?" I asked.

Blaise snickered. "Elections are coming up."

I drummed my fingers on my knees. "That makes… a lot of sense, actually. So you thought you ought to tell us?"

"Draco'll know. He'll have told his group – actually, anyone whose parents are in the Ministry will know. Except the Weasleys, because their father's an idiot. I thought you'd want to know." He looked directly at me as he said this. "So," Blaise said suddenly, "what's with the owl?"

* * *

><p>The thestrals that pulled the carriages were happy to see me, but I didn't have time to do anything more than stroke their noses on the way by. I hadn't told anyone I could see them and didn't intend to for another year or so.<p>

It was raining, which was predictable enough, although it was heavier than normal. I left the carriage flanked by Blaise and Theo, with Millicent behind us. Peeves was being his normal self, but he left us alone after we threatened him with the Baron. The Sorting took forever, or so it seemed, although there was excitement when Blaise's brother was Sorted.

"Zabini, Tristan!"

The hat paused for a long time. Minutes passed.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Blaise clapped happily. "Good," he whispered in my ear, "at least he's not in my House."

I laughed quietly. "Another like the Weasley twins, you said."

"Worse," he told me.

"Oh dear."

I shovelled food down, ignoring most of the conversations around me, picking up only that Blaise's stories of Tristan got worse and worse as he went on. I continued ignoring the beginning of Dumbledore's speech, the roars of outrage from the students at the cancellation of Quidditch, and his valiant attempt at talking over them. I did, however, perk up at the arrival of our new Defence teacher.

He looked like he'd been through the metaphorical mill. He was missing an eye, a chunk of his nose, and a leg. Dark grey hair hung in scattered clumps around his face, and the missing eye had been replaced by a wild electric blue one. Limping up to the high table, he shook hands with Dumbledore, before sitting to his right and beginning to eat.

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore said brightly. "Professor Moody."

Theo, flinching, leaned into me. "Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody, retired Auror, the most successful dark wizard catcher of them all, and complete paranoid maniac."

I nodded. "So what's he doing here?"

"Good friends with Dumbledore," Blaise said. "He must have begged Mad-eye to come and take the job."

"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued finally, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Told you so."

"You're _joking!_" one of the Weasley twins said loudly.

The Hall burst into noise, all except the Slytherin table. Most of us were sitting and nodding smugly at each other. _We_ weren't caught by surprise, unlike everyone else in the Hall.

"I am _not _joking, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said, smiling, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

Blaise snickered into my ear. "There's a thousand of those jokes, and they _all _end dirty."

"Er – but maybe this is not the time… no…" Dumbledore trailed off blankly. "Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who _do_ know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

Given that the train ride to Hogwarts had consisted of nothing _but_ discussion of the Triwizard Tournament, I did completely tune him out. It took a while before Blaise poked me. "Going to try it?"

I laughed at him, ignoring the rest of the room. "Hell _no_! Are you bonkers?"

He grinned back. "Good. I was afraid you'd be acting all Gryffindor, and all."

"If you'd shut up," Theo interrupted, "you'd know that no one under seventeen will be allowed to join."

Blaise scowled at him. "We'd only been talking for two seconds! Honestly, Theo, can't you just leave it?"

The two boys made faces at each other across me. "Oy!" I told them, "if you're going to have a dominance squabble, don't do it across me!"

The face making continued, but at least they leaned back. "Sorry," Blaise muttered.

Theo murmured an agreement.

I smacked both of them. "Supper's done, in case the two of you missed it. Let's go to bed, okay?"

* * *

><p>Schedules came out the next morning, along with a note from Snape: <em>SLL – Keep the Time-turner, you'll need it. Lessons seven days a week, nineteen o'clock through curfew. STS<em>

I blinked. Seven days a week, up from three. Three hours a day, up from two. Something was up, something that had Snape seriously upset and paranoid. That, and, judging from his expressions last night, he didn't like Moody any more than he'd liked Lupin.

Monday was Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and double Arithmancy. Transfiguration was easy enough, all we did was go through all the things we'd learned last year. Care of Magical Creatures was more exciting, since Hagrid had managed to illegally crossbreed _something_ over the summer, and he spent the whole class showing it off. After I managed to survive undamaged, I ran off to lunch, and then to Arithmancy. Professor Vector spent the entire class outlining the invention of the spell _lumos_, demonstrating how the Arithmancy equations fit into the spell itself, and how you can use simple equations to change the colour of the light, to add more lights, or to increase the size of the light. We would, as it transpired, be spending the rest of the semester working on coming up with the equations on our own.

And then there was supper. Blaise, of course, spent the walk down whinging in my ear about how horrible it was that McGonagall had given us homework. He shut up immediately, however, when we saw what was in front of the Great Hall.

Professor Moody, for reasons best known only to himself, was bouncing a white ferret off of everything in sight. Theo, who was already there, said quietly, "It's Draco."

"What?"

"That ferret," Theo said, "it's Draco. Professor Moody turned Draco into a ferret."

"Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do!" Moody yelled.

I frowned. "What'd Draco do now?"

Theo snorted. "Arthur Weasley made the papers again. Draco and _our_ Weasley," he said, meaning Ron, "got into a fight about it. Draco insulted Potter's mum, Potter insulted Lady Malfoy back. Draco shot a spell at Potter. Professor Moody took offence."

The drama continued, even as we ignored it. "Professor Moody!" McGonagall yelled, clearly furious.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," Moody said calmly, enthusiastically bouncing Draco.

"What – what are you doing?" McGonagall said, tracking Draco with her eyes.

Moody grinned. "Teaching."

"Teach –" I watched realization dawn over McGonagall's face. "Moody, _is that a student_?"

I covered my ears. That was a truly painful pitch of voice. Leaning over to Blaise, I whispered, "Do we need to be here for this?"

He snickered. "But it's so amusing."

"True," I muttered, "but I like my ears the way they are."

Blaise glanced over to see Draco, now human-shaped, sprawled on the stairs. "Draco Malfoy, ferret boy."

"Good name for him," I said quietly.

Theo ducked his head. "Don't say that too loudly."

I returned my attention to Moody, catching a name I knew. "…Snape, will it?" Moody said.

Draco glared at him – understandably, I thought. "Yes," he snarled.

"Another old friend," Moody growled. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape… Come on, you…" He grabbed Draco's arm, and the mismatched pair marched off to the dungeons.

I frowned at them. "Snape," I whispered to Blaise. "What's Moody got against Snape?"

Blaise shrugged. "Moody was an Auror. Snape was a Death Eater. Presumably there's some not-held conversations there."

I snorted. "Yeah, I bet they'll get along well." I wrinkled my nose. "Shall we go have supper, then?"

* * *

><p>After wolfing my supper down, I ran for Snape's office. The others had left, fortunately, and Snape was in his inner office. "What happened?" I asked, bolting in. "With Moody, what'd he have to say?"<p>

He gave me a long look. "I am no longer surprised," he said dryly. "The next time there is a war, I will put _you_ in charge of gathering information."

I smiled faintly. "Sir? What's going on?"

Snape sat behind his desk, motioning at another chair. "Last year – things were complicated. The Headmaster explained some things, but I am bound by oaths."

"Oaths that supersede our Master-Apprentice bond?" I interjected. We'd never really talked about what went on that night in February, but I always wore the Mobius-strip bracelet.

He smiled finally. "I neither know nor _care_ what you've heard, but the Master-Apprentice relationship is solely for the purpose of teaching. Nothing more."

I looked at him for a long time. "But you said – there were runes?" There was information here that I didn't have, and I _wanted_ it.

Snape sighed. "Yes, there are runes, and I will have a talk with the Headmaster. Regardless, a Death Eater who has been incapacitated is now no longer so, and he will be working to bring back the Dark Lord. In addition – we think the two are unrelated – a group of former Death Eaters who escaped Azkaban," he gave me a _very_ stern look, "and whose names will _not _be repeated outside this room, decided to cause trouble at the Quidditch World Cup."

"I saw," I told him. "It was a stupid move on their part."

He nodded. "Poor timing, poor location, and poor choice of actions. The Dark Mark was not put up by them."

I gaped at him. "What? But – who, then?"

"We do not know," Snape said quietly. "It caused havoc among the group because they did not know who set it off. So – one group causing trouble because they can. They don't want to bring him back, because they are enjoying their freedom. Then there is a loner who _is_ working to bring him back. This worried the Headmaster, so he hired Auror Moody for assistance."

I nodded, putting the pieces together. "And you don't get along."

He laughed harshly. "Mad-eye was the one who arrested me after the war. He'd love to put me back in."

"But – but I thought – Blaise said you'd never been arrested," I protested.

Snape smiled bitterly. "Accused, yes. The Headmaster defended me, but Moody did not approve. In a gesture of good faith, I voluntarily surrendered myself – which, since the Ministry was still in a state of war, resulted in my arrest. It is not an experience I intend to repeat. I was charged, the Headmaster provided opposing evidence, and I was released. No charges as such were ever published, nor was I ever put to trial."

I relaxed. "Then Moody's just stirring up trouble to stir up trouble."

Snape gave a not-at-all-reassuring shrug. "He has a point. The Mark is darkening, albeit slowly, the Death Eaters are restless, and a hundred international representatives are going to be at Hogwarts for most of the year. He's nervous. It would be nice," he added dryly, "if he refrained from taking it out on me and Lucius Malfoy's son."

I snickered. "Potter'll end up involved, you know he will."

He groaned. "Of _course_ he will. Why on _earth_ would Potter make an intelligent decision?" Snape stood, shaking his head. "Regardless, in terms of your tutoring, this is the last week we will spend on duelling."

I grinned in relief. I _hated_ duelling, even if I was getting good at it. Well, sort of. I was good at all of the things that were transferrable to fighting – the aiming, the speed, the coming up with random spells while on the spot. I was horrible at the rituals, at remembering what spells I could or could not use, at the correct stances, and at all the duelling specific parts. It would be good to move on to something else.

"To test and see if you have remembered anything over the summer, tomorrow we will hold a formal duel, complete with seconds."

I blinked. "Seconds? Who – I need to find someone?"

Snape smiled for real this time. "I would recommend Minerva. I will be asking the Headmaster. Show her your bracelet and explain. She likes you, for some reason."

I smirked at him. Even if Snape would never admit it, he was fond of me, in some odd Snape-ish way.

"For tonight, however, you may work on target practice."

Groaning, I rolled my eyes. I _hated_ target practice.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Fun chapter, ya?**

** Some relevant notes & disclaimers: I know some things about Bat Mitzvahs, but those who know more are welcome to correct me; for those of you who got confused during the letter exchange, SLL is Sarah Leah Levine, while STS is Severus Tobias Snape; the owl will come back again; Sarah's reaction to Miriam's accusation is on the part of her character, not me, and besides, she's 14 in the mid-1990's, anyone who wasn't already out (and a few who were) would have responded that way; yes, the last name in the book is a 'W', but I'd already named Tristan Zabini; and the conversation between Sarah and Snape was not planned, but there is a point to it.**

**Challenge Related Thingys: Cameo to Gray Fedora, again – the spell was in Norwegian, because Norway has the longest stretch of sea-coast along the North Sea. The spell reads:**

_**Come to me, keeper of souls, come to me. I order thee, by my power as a dark wizard, to come to me. Stand and do not attack without orders. Keeper of souls, I command thee to stay and hold thy position. Thou art mine and will follow my commands!**_

_**Hold still! I, Severus Snape, command thee to hold still! **_

_**Leave us! Return to your post and guard these gates!**_

**Yes, it is **_**very**_** Dark. More on that later.**

**New Challenge: What book did I take Miles' name from? (Yes, it is as a name, as a first name, of a human character. It's not as a unit of length.)**


	21. Oops

Apology – again.

Oops. I'm really, _really_ sorry. I was doing so well – I actually had a schedule for a while there, where I'd spend three days working on the latest chapter of this, and then four on something else, and best of all, it worked! Except, last Thursday (9/20), when I was supposed to start the next chapter, I moved into the dorms, which occupied almost all of my brain for a while. And then I got bitten by a monster new HP/DW plot bunny that refused to let me go until I'd finished the first episode (about 10,000 words or so). That's being posted now as _Harry Potter and the TARDIS_, although the title may change because I don't like it very much right now.

Right, so I'm in my new!shiny!dorm (actually, only new for me, because it was built in the 1960s and was last renovated about then too), and going to my new!evil!classes, and working with my absolutely _wonderful_ roommate (everyone say hi to Becky!), and trying to keep on top of Doctor Who and _ohmygod_ the next season of Sherlock is up on Netflix, and on top of all _that_, the only plot bunny that will cooperate with my muse is the new HP/DW one. So that's what you're getting.

And a bit of a future peek: I'm doing NaNoWriMo again, which means absolutely _nothing_ will be updated during November, but, because I plan to actually have _plot_ this year, I'm taking the whole of October to hammer that into shape (possibly literally. It's being stubborn right now). Things will be posted, but they won't be huge, and, as much as possible, they'll be written in the last five days of September.

So this is your announcement of official hiatus-ness. I won't make any promises (because my plot bunnies have a habit of forcing me to break them), but this _probably_ won't be updated again until the beginning of December. On the flip side, _Harry Potter and the TARDIS _will be updated at _least_ once a week until November; it being a mark of this particular bunny to churn out rapid short chapters, and so even if I don't write anything more, I can _still_ post once a week until November 1st.

Again, I'm really, really sorry about this, but I only have the brain to deal with one fic at a time on top of everything else, and the bunnies have decided to focus on the Doctor rather than Sarah. Blame them – not me!

While we're at it, if you're bored, I would highly recommend reading my other works, *cough self-promotion cough* and also anything on my favourites list.

See you in December!


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